


The Cognitive Dissonance Of Capture

by WhoLenny



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Eventual Romance, F/F, Gang Culture, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Strong Language, The Blossoms are the fucking mafia, The Serpents are hardcore, Violence, drug references, kidnap, plenty of internal dialogues, plot plot plot so much plot, there will be no non-con don't worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-06-05 08:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15167003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoLenny/pseuds/WhoLenny
Summary: “Let this be your first lesson, serpent. I control what happens to you now. So, henceforth, if you breathe, it is because I give you air. If you drink…” she glanced to the bottle, her eyes flashing, “…it is because I poured your cup myself. And if you move,” she pushed her face closer and dropped her voice to a whisper, her red lips brushing menacingly against Toni’s cheek, “it is quietly, and with my blessing.”The Blossom Crime Family capture Toni, in an unfortunate turn of events for the Serpents, and hold her hostage. A power-hungry Cheryl is given the opportunity to interrogate her and, more importantly, control her fate... in any way that she sees fit.Will Toni remain the only thing that's captured? Or will two apparently such dissonant souls find that they have more to offer one another than it initially seems.





	1. Sadistic Blossom Bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you're here from my previous work Scuff, welcome back! If not, whatever, I get it it's long. Anyway, enjoy this. An AU endeavor into the inner workings of Cheryl and Toni and the convergence of two distinctly different lives through capture. Comment if you like, or not, it's all good either way we're all just here for a good time. I hope you enjoy. Peace out.

 

 

Toni Topaz knew many things.

She knew the five specifically most effective points on a human body to stun, the ten to wound, and the thirteen to kill.

She knew exactly how much baby powder to cut with jingle-jangle to make it profitable but not lethal.

She knew how to operate a butterfly knife and precisely how many miles away from the crime scene one should dump it in order to elude the cops.

She knew how to clean a gun.

She knew how to _use_ a gun.

She knew _exactly_ how heavy a stack of 1000 should feel in her hand.

She knew how to keep her mouth shut under pain of torture.

And she knew that if she hadn’t gone back that night to save Sweetpea, she wouldn’t have been fucking caught.

 

She would be free, enjoying a drink at the Whyte Wyrm, laying low with the other Serpents to lick their wounds and avoid the police for a few days, and not have been being held captive by the enemy side.

What she didn’t know, despite her best efforts, was exactly where she was.

And what she _definitely_ didn’t know, nor did she even want to guess, was what was going to happen to her.

The damp bandana that had been pulled across her eyes as she’d been bundled roughly into a car, her arms wrenched painfully behind her back, had negated any hope of recognising scenery en-route to her imprisonment.

But she’d done what she could, feeling for the passage of the road beneath her as she’d lain hogtied in the trunk. The fluctuations, the variations, stops and starts and turns and had that been asphalt changing to gravel beneath the tyres? Had that rush of a body of running water been to the East or the West? Had she heard the scratch of that branch against the paintwork before already? The journey had been long, whether by necessity or design she couldn’t be sure, but after she’d estimated the average speed of travel and thusly assumed it to be about a thirty minute drive, she’d recognised a specific jolting bump in the road, followed by a sharp left turn and the smell of maple trees.

A knowing grin had gripped itself, in a vain attempt, to her bound mouth.

She’d taken this journey before.

Many times.

They’d been travelling to the _Northside_.

Taking that morsel into account, along with the luxury model of the vehicle in which she’d been crudely dumped, the fact that her abductors had been protecting a Ghoulie hideout, _and_ of course not to forget those precious _maple trees_ , she had taken a fairly educated punt at the fact that this was the work of the Blossoms.

The fucking dirty, bastard, Mafioso _wishing_ , evil, cutthroat **_Blossoms._**

New York City’s infamous Five Families, nor even Riverdale’s own _Lodge_ family _,_ would ever dare deem themselves worthy to even open their mouths and lick clean the priceless Italian leather of Blossom shoes, so highly held in esteem were they.

They were _The_ family _._

Clifford, Penelope, the Boy and the Girl. Twins, as Toni recalled.

Elusive. Untouchable. Invisible. Unseen. All powerful.

Omnipotent.

Truly gods amongst the mortals; reaching their fair-skinned arms down from the clandestine mystery of the heavens to push pieces around a board like Generals at war.

They held a monopoly over both the frontage of legitimate business across Riverdale and much of the rest of the state of New York, not to mention the rest of the _country_ , but also upon the seedy underbelly of organised crime that ran riot, yet remained undetectable due the perfection of its Blossom orchestration. They had control of drug traffic. They had control of territory. They had control of business and security and employment. They had Sheriff Keller in their back pocket and they had free reign over all that they wanted. They had their aristocratic, moneyed, perversely greedy, pale fingers in all the goddamn pies.

And, as of right now, they had Toni.

 

She looked around her, eyes squinting in the poor light of a single, bare bulb that hung pathetically above her. She seemed to be in some make shift holding cell, the low temperature and heavy dampness seeping through the oppressive cement breezeblock walls suggesting determinedly to her that she was underground. She had barely enough width to stretch her short legs out into a straight line, sitting cramped upon the cold, dirty floor.

Fucking _Blossoms._

She tugged angrily at her arms, her wrists burning painfully as the cable ties restraining her to a steel pole dug deeper into her tanned skin.

Goddamn fucking twisted **_Blossoms_** _._

She bumped her head against the gritted wall next to her, heaving a sigh against the cloying fabric gag in her mouth.

Fucking Sweetpea. If only he’d dropped the drugs and ran. If only he hadn’t got himself caught up in a Ghoulie chain.

_If only she’d left him behind._

She frowned, closing her eyes.

No, she couldn’t do that.

They were Serpents. They were family.

She _couldn’t_ leave him behind.

She opened her eyes to stare at the dense, gray ceiling leering above her.

She could only hope they wouldn’t leave _her_ behind either.

She turned her head, neck creaking with a prolonged stiffness from her position, staring down the twenty meters or so of the length of her enclosure. She blinked, craning her head forward as she made out what appeared to be a flimsy metal staircase right at the far side opposite her, leading upwards to an apparent dead end in the ceiling.

No, not a dead end.

A **way out**.

She kicked her boots against the floor, dry dust spitting into the air as she tried to turn her body to get a better look, to no avail, her legs eventually skidding to a weary stop and slumping weightily into the ground as she sighed a tired groan.

She’d been here for hours, exhaustion taking over her body, despite her efforts to stay alert, and pushing her forcefully into sleep more than once.

Her stomach was empty, growling angrily up at her in protest and her mouth stuck aridly to her gag, her tongue desperate for the merciful touch of moisture.

**God fucking _dammit_ , Sweetpea.**

She sighed, falling against the wall as her eyes fluttered shut.

The Serpents would already be looking for her, she pondered. It wouldn’t be long now.

 _Dear God don’t let it be long now_.

She never thought she would yearn for the discomfort of her battered trailer mattress. The familiar smell of cigarettes and the sound of FP whistling merrily across the park.

The restless, unpredictable instability of her home and her _family_ , in which she found such a paradoxical safety and security beyond any in her life.

Solidity. Nothing but acceptance.

Not like this.

Solid concrete walls, solid cement floor, solid _no fucking clue_ where she was.

Nothing but **_worry._**

Praying to a God she cared not to acknowledge in her everyday life.

Her restraints gripped tighter to her arms, her hips aching restlessly against the ground.

**_Dear God don’t let it be long now._ **

 

She didn’t know for how long she’d been unconscious when she flickered her eyes open, roused by the muffled mutterings of voices and heavy footfalls thudding onto wood from the ground above her. They came through to her ears in drabs, buffered by the barrier of the ceiling a mere 6 feet over her head. She’d thought the loneliness of her sad little room had been the most tormenting but, now, the looming of present company encouraged nothing but pure dread.

She sat up, ears straining.

“… _requested you personally_ …”

 A man’s deep timbre.

“… _special opportunity for you_ …”

Another man’s gruff bark, registered slightly higher.

She closed her eyes, frowning in concentration.

“… **_dare_** _you address me like that_ …”

Toni stiffened at the sound of the third voice, eyes springing open.

It was a woman.

Unmistakably.

A light, crisp, clearly articulated woman’s voice, lilting its delicate strings through the floor to lift Toni’s curiosity.

She frowned harder, her ears perked in the loud ringing of silence.

“… your father, Miss Blossom...” The first man spoke again.

 _Miss_ Blossom?

The daughter?

One of the Blossom heirs was _here_?

Toni flinched as a loud clunk sounded from the far end of her cell, daylight flooding in through a newly exposed hole in the ceiling and a trapdoor above the staircase sliding away.

She watched, mesmerised, as the surrounding dust disturbed itself and floated softly through the air, catching rays of light as it floated out its taunting escape.

“I am _not going_ in there.”

The woman’s voice again, clear now, sharp and biting like an ice cube rolling in her mouth, crunching eloquently against her teeth.

Toni swallowed dryly.

“I do _not_ have to do as you say, Otto. I don’t _care_ if daddy requested it, I am _aware_ that he is busy in the City with JJ and I am not in _the least bit_ curious about this little hostage that you’ve secured. Have it wait until daddy returns. Let it starve. I don’t care. This utter _pantomime_ of foolishness is entirely _beneath_ me. I do _not_ associate myself with the _kidnapped_.”

Toni rolled her eyes.

Blossom _bitch_.

“Miss Blossom as I said, your father has told us to tell you that he considers this a special opportunity for you. He thought perhaps you would appreciate the chance to interrogate them.”

Toni supressed a scoff.

Good luck with _that_.

“And as _I_ said you _oaf_ , I don’t _care_ about some Serpent vagabond. I don’t _do_ interrogation; I pay others to do it for me.”

“Miss Blossom, the hostage is a young woman.”

Toni heard a pause then, allowing her lungs only shallow breaths to best hear what was to follow.

“Pardon me?” _Miss Blossom_ finally spoke.

“Mr Blossom implores that you at least… and I quote, _take a look_.”

Toni shifted anxiously against the hard floor.

What the fuck did _that_ mean?

Fucking _twisted_ Blossoms.

She bit her teeth harshly against the bounds in her mouth as the light shifted in the entrance hole, a sleek, red patent stiletto dropping into view and hitting the first metal stair with a hollow clunk.

Fuck.

Its twin came to rest next to it, pausing for a moment.

_Dear God let the Serpents be close._

Toni turned her face away, squeezing her eyes shut in defiance – not _fear_ , not fucking fear, she wasn’t _afraid_ of anything let alone a spoiled daddy’s girl, she’d seen things _done things_ far worse than this it **_wasn’t_** fear, this was _defiance_ – and listened as footsteps thudded daintily down the stairs to a stop.

There was a moment of pause from the far end, before a sharp intake of breath.

 _Fuck_.

The heels began clicking again, harshly against the dull concrete floor, echoing in the tight space, and growing closer to her, ceasing their slow rhythm right in front of where she lay sat.

Toni held her breath; face sternly turned away into the wall, waiting stock-still in the heavy silence.

She _wouldn’t_ make this easy for them.

A refined voice broke through.

“Oh well now, look at you.”

It was soft, curious, a smugness tinting the smooth edges laxly.

And it was close.

A heavy perfume, smelling of lemons and sandalwood, each breath of it into Toni’s nose most likely costing more than the sum of her possessions, drifted closer to her.

Heat radiated out along with the delicate fragrance as she felt the warmth of another body in the proximity, a jarring contrast to the shivering cold she’d felt as she’d slumped here for hours.

“Aren’t you just a _treat_?”

Toni’s teeth clenched tighter.

The note of arrogance in her words, the possessive objectification. The sheer _superiority_ over her it was naturally trying to exude, belittling her to the grand sum total of merely a _thing_.

It angered Toni.

It _seethed_ at her.

Years of being less than, being one of a gang of _outsiders_ , never having enough money to keep the fucking lights on, deep rooted wounds of abandonment and loss and growing up too fast, never quite being Caucasian enough or _male_ enough to truly take over what was rightfully her Uktena legacy, just a pawn in the fucking game of someone else’s life, boiled up inside her.

She was goddamn _more_ than that. She was _more_ than just a **_thing_**.

She gripped her hands into tight fists, the cable ties cutting deeper still.

Goddamn Blossom _bitch_.

She opened her eyes, a poisonous scowl ready to kill and a growl waiting perched in her throat as she raised her head. She’d show the fucking-

She stopped, face falling lax.

She hadn’t known what to imagine when thinking of the Blossom Twins, not that she ever really thought of them at all. Perhaps sickly. Ratty. Some snivelling, pale little witches with bony fingers and spindly legs and Hapsburg jaw. A sense of authority _begging_ petulantly from them. Some caricature born of a fairy-tale. Legends by name but pure folklore in appearance.

Whatever it had been, it certainly wasn’t _this_.

She drifted her eyes over the shiny heels she’d seen descend from the heavens, trailing her gaze up long, _so long_ , pale legs, milky calves and thighs toned slimly around narrow knees. She traversed the hem of a perfectly tailored dress, noting the flatness of her stomach and the cinch of her waist, hidden at the sides by a long, dark coat. She had a full chest, pale skin swelling bountifully over her cleavage and up to her striking collarbones as they jutted out beneath a slender neck.  Confidence, grandeur, the air of knowing oneself to be absolute _royalty_ poured off her in a suffocating mist of pure **power**.

And then, her face.

Toni’s gag fell loose in her mouth.

It was mesmerising. So soft, perfectly clear skin beaming brightly around piercing brown eyes and the fullest, most salacious looking mouth Toni had ever seen.

The signature Blossom red hair she had heard so much about fell over her petite shoulders in perfect waves, like rouging chestnuts tumbling through a roasting fire. Toni found herself foolishly dropping her defenses for a brief second.

It looked so soft. She wanted to run her fingers through it. She wanted to smell it. To feel it on her face.

She couldn’t take her eyes away.

She willed the word desperately away from her head because _nothing_ , literally _nothing_ about this _terrible_ fucking situation should ever be described in such a way but she couldn’t help it, goddammit _look at her_.

That disgusting, twisted Blossom bitch was utterly **_beautiful_**.

And she was staring at Toni with much the same surprised wonderment.

Toni watched as she pulled a hand slowly from the pocket of her coat, whipping the side of it back and out of her way, as she bent down to rest on her haunches, leaning closer to Toni’s face.

Her lips were perfectly lined with a brilliant, bright red and Toni draped her eyes over them in awe. She was so statuesque. So clean. So utterly, perfectly manufactured. But with a distinctive, cutting flare of her own very present essence that was most likely unparalleled by any other entity in existence. Truly, artistically, genetically bespoke.

_Gods amongst the mortals._

Toni wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything like it outside of a television screen.

She watched as thick lashes swayed in a blink.

 **Fuck**.

She swallowed dryly, noting the unfortunate quickening of her heartrate in her ears.

No. No stop it.

A sudden anger began boiling inside of her, a frustration whipping out to spur her own back in punishment like a repentant flagellant.

How could she be thinking like this?

How could she be thinking such things about this woman?

Sure she may be worth a fuck, Toni, and you’ve never seen someone look so _expensive_ and you’d probably give her a second glance if she passed you on the street but she was a fucking _Blossom._

She was a goddammit evil fucking Blossom bitch, heir to the fortune that wanted your kind _dead_ and the person who was currently crouching before you, examining you like an _animal_ as you shiver, tied to a pole.

How dare you think like that?

All that she stands for.

All that her family has done to yours.

How _dare_ you?

A long finger reached out, covered by a thin layer of buttery brown leather - the natural smell still sticking to its surface – to press lightly below Toni’s chin, lifting her face.

Toni watched as the woman’s brown eyes drank in _every_ inch of it, darting intelligently over the skin and noting each detail.

Toni swallowed.

“My _God_ you’re pretty.” This _Miss Blossom_ whispered, mesmerised, her light, pepperminty breath ghosting warmly over Toni’s face. It seemed to be said more to herself than to Toni, no doubt this bitch’s classist privilege barely registering her as a sentient being at all, capable of thought or response.

A full, red lip was peeled backwards into an eager mouth, perfect white teeth clamping down upon it comfortably.

“Mmmm…” A low rumble of affirmation, astute eyes narrowing at Toni, “…yes. Yes, you’ll be _very_ useful.”

 She turned her head, red curls dropping from her shoulder to tickle softly against Toni’s jaw, wafting out notes of rose and scented pears.

Toni’s eyes fluttered gently.

“Otto?” She called out, the volume harsh against Toni’s sound-starved ears.

“Yes, Miss Blossom?”

Toni watched as _Miss Blossom_ smirked lightly, her finger still pressed possessively to her chin.

“You two go and wait at the perimeter and leave me be until I’m ready to be taken home.” She ordered, her cheekbones curving gracefully as she spoke.

Toni heard a deep chuckle from the surface, a knowing smugness to the words.

“As you wish.”

Striking brown eyes turned back to Toni, a predatory grin exposing white teeth.

“Well now… you are beneath the ground, inside a building, with acres of empty forested estate surrounding you,” red lips purred.

Toni committed each detail to memory.

“No one is around to hear you. And no one would _be able_ to hear you, even at your loudest.” A light, elegant chuckle left her chest as she stroked her finger down Toni’s face to the fabric of her gag. “So I’m going to remove this from your mouth now, think very carefully before you answer… are you going to scream?”

She watched Toni with an expectant smile, a sheer _lust for_ _power_ shining dangerously in her eyes.

Toni weighed her options, deciding to bide her time.

She shook her head.

A red brow quirked upwards, red lips opening softly.

“Oh,” She breathed, “what a _pity_.”

She hooked her gloved finger gently into the fabric, tugging it away from Toni’s lips and releasing the handkerchief that had been stuffed harshly into her mouth.

They both stopped, silent, panting breaths hitting across each other’s skin.

Toni watched those piercing brown eyes raking eagerly over the newly exposed shape of her chapped lips, _Miss Blossom’s_ tongue darting out to wet her own red ones in reaction.

“What’s your name, little bird?”

Toni clenched her jaw, her mouth curling into a sneer as she stared her dead in the eye.

“ _Fuck you_.”

The woman stretched her lips into a wider smile, her chest rumbling with a melodic laugh.

“Mmm, you _wish_. Not today, Cha-Cha.” She drawled, smirking as she ran her finger over Toni’s mouth before placing the digit to her own. She gripped the leather with her white teeth, unsheathing her hand smoothly and tucked the glove into her pocket, biting her own lip as she reached out again to feel her fingertips lightly along the curve of Toni’s mouth.

Toni shivered, not entirely from the cold.

“My name is Cheryl. Cheryl Blossom.” She muttered distractedly, her fingers playing idly with Toni’s lips. She clearly wasn’t afraid of getting them bitten off and Toni appeared not to give her any reason to, staring firmly and unflinchingly at her face as she sat frozen in place. “But you knew that already I’m sure.”

Ugh the fucking _ego_ on this woman.

Disgusting.

Toni let out a soft breath against pale fingers.

Cheryl.

 _Cheryl_.

She played it over in her mind silently, imagining how it would sound falling from her lips in her own raspy voice.

It was soft. Poetic. Pretty. A million miles away from what Toni might’ve assumed she’d be called.

Something guttural, perhaps. Germanic or Gaelic in origin, like her lineage. Born of pillage and theft of land to assault its way over the ears and tongues of those who encountered it.

But not this.

Not the lyrical _Cheryl_.

Toni clenched her fists tighter.

 _Stop **it**_ **.**

Cheryl leaned forward then, burying her nose in Toni’s hair and sucking in an audible breath.

Toni instinctively noticed how exposed Cheryl had left her neck to her and, were her hands free from their bonds, she knew she could have her dead in minutes.

The bitch knew that too.

She was taunting her.

Cheryl pulled back, her eyes closed, letting out a small groan through her nose.

“You smell like wood fires.” She whispered, biting her lower lip as she opened her eyes to look at Toni, a darkness piercing out from them. “I _love_ fire. I find it so _cleansing_. Don’t you?”

She pulled back suddenly, not interested in an answer, standing to her feet and removing the glove from her other hand.

“Now,” She started, her voice sickly sweet, “Daddy always says that a primary precaution is that we must properly identify the _Southside Scum_.” She said matter-of-factly, running her finger neatly under the line of her red lip. “So, where is your Serpent tattoo?”

Toni tensed, her legs curling defensively to her chest.

Cheryl smiled.

 _Sadist_.

“Tell me where it is.” She said calmly, a bitchy smile spreading across her face as she lowered her head to be level with Toni’s.

Toni breathed quickly through flared nostrils, her legs begging to kick at Cheryl but knowing the rebuttal would be worse for her.

If only she could get her damn hands free.

“Tell me where it is…” Cheryl prompted again, tilting her head and raising a slender hand to point at the open hatch door, “Or I will have one of them come down here and find it _for me_.”

Toni scowled, her teeth grinding together.

Oh, once she was free, we’d see how pretty that pale face looked then.

“ _Hip_.” She spat, disgusted at herself for giving in so easily.

Cheryl hummed, lips pressing into a thin smile, “Good girl, Cha-Cha. Left or right?”

Toni raised a frowning eyebrow, surprised at the almost _politeness_ of the formality.

“Left.”

“Splendid.”

Cheryl bent down again and reached for her legs as Toni flinched away, pulling them downwards with a surprising strength. She pushed up Toni’s shirt, digging her fingers into the waistband of her jeans and tugging them down until the little snake tattoo peeked out on display, making sure, it seemed, to go absolutely no further.

Toni breathed heavily, wary of her intentions nonetheless.

A perfectly manicured red fingernail scratched lightly at it to test its legitimacy before a pale thumb soothed over the reddening skin gently to ease it.

Toni flicked her gaze up from it to look at Cheryl’s face.

She was staring at the skin with hooded, keen eyes. It was reminiscent to Toni of some of the kids at the trailer park with whom she’d grown up. The ones with whom she’d never wanted to play. The book smart loners who’d watched with a sick, clinical fascination as they’d torn the limbs off bugs _just to see what would happen_.

She sucked in a jagged breath.

“God, so sad.” Cheryl lamented aloud, tipping her head to the side as she surveyed the ink, her fingers drifting over its pattern, utterly captivated. “Your skin would be so perfect if not for this.”

Jesus Christ the sick Blossom bitch was going to wear her like a fucking coat.

Give her a trigger-happy Ghoulie _any day_ over the sinister perversions of the _bored_ upper classes.

Cheryl Blossom was _deviant_.

Toni tensed, shifting away.

Cheryl noticed, tugging her jeans back up to her waist.

“Have you been fed? Given water?”

Toni felt her eyes bulge eagerly, her throat bobbing painfully as she shook her head.

“Poor kitten.” Cheryl pouted insincerely, lifting her finger to stroke it softly over the rounded apples of Toni’s cheek, peeling it away slowly, her eyes transfixed. She sighed, reaching behind her to a rigidly tailored designer handbag that Toni hadn’t noticed. She must have put it down before she’d opened her eyes and been shielding it with her body.

That was _dangerous_ , Toni. _Sloppy._ Don’t let yourself get distracted.

 _Stop it_.

Cheryl unzipped it slowly, slipping her hand inside and retrieving a bottle of water, almost completely full, a smirk stitched grimly to her face.

“Would you like some?” She asked sweetly, wrapping her fingers around the lid to unscrew it slowly, holding it in front of Toni’s face.

Toni’s tongue wriggled frantically in her mouth as she watched the water slosh against its plastic confines, fixing her eyes to it. She didn’t want to give in. She didn’t want to submit. She didn’t want to admit to vulnerability. She didn’t want to give _her_ the power.

But **_God_** she was **_thirsty_**.

She parted her dry lips, nodding her head.

“Oh I’m sure you would.” Cheryl taunted, a patronisingly babying tone to her voice. She smirked cruelly, pulling the bottle away and lifting it to her own mouth, drinking from it eagerly, her slender throat bouncing happily with each swallow.

Toni’s blood stung in her veins, clenching her swelling hands tighter.

 _Sadistic. Blossom. **Bitch**_ **.**

Cheryl stopped, licking her lips with a satisfied rush of breath and wiped the back of her hand over her wet mouth.

“Let this be your first lesson, _serpent_. **_I_** control what happens to you now. So, henceforth, if you breathe, it is because I give you air. If you _drink_ …” she glanced to the bottle, her eyes flashing, “…it is because I poured your cup myself. And if you move,” she pushed her face closer and dropped her voice to a whisper, her red lips brushing menacingly against Toni’s cheek, “it is quietly, and with _my_ blessing.”

She shook the three quarters of the bottle that were remaining, pulling back, and brought it to Toni’s lips, tilting it upwards with a concentrated carefulness as she watched Toni drink from it desperately.

The cool water coated her dry tongue soothingly, easing its way welcomingly down her throat and quenching her painful thirst.

She groaned, closing her eyes as she drained the bottle greedily, beads of water dripping down her chin.

She felt the rim disappear from her lips and gasped in relief, opening her eyes to look at Cheryl.

Oh god.

She wished she hadn’t.

Despite being the shortest, smallest, youngest woman in a criminal motorcycle gang comprised mainly of seedy, predatory men, Toni had never felt more like vulnerable prey in all her life than she did sat directly in the trajectory of the heated gaze of Cheryl Blossom.

Cheryl’s eyes were glazed over, dark and focussed, and her mouth parted open slightly to accommodate her shallow breaths, fingers gripping tightly into the plastic of the bottle as it crinkled weakly in her herculean grasp.

 ** _Fuck_**.

She stared a while longer, chest rising and falling rhythmically, before she blinked, discarding the bottle into her purse and rising to her feet.

“I will have some food sent down for you shortly.” She murmured, running long fingers through her hair as she stepped over to the middle of the room. “And perhaps…” she glanced backwards at Toni, raking her eyes over her body, “If you tell me your name, I might see to it that you find yourself in more comfortable lodgings.”

With that, she turned, her coat whirring elegantly behind her before her heels sounded out against the metal steps once more, disappearing back to the surface and sealing Toni off into darkness with a clunk of the hatch door.

Toni let out a deep sigh, her throat closing over as she swallowed.

**_Dear God let the serpents be close._ **

 

 


	2. Power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting down to the nitty gritty of Cheryl and her background. Enjoy! Let me know what you think.

 

 

Cheryl Blossom watched disinterestedly through the black tinted windows of the car as rows of familiar maple trees flew quickly by. Indeed, such a moment served as quite a succinct summation of how she’d viewed much of the world in her, thus far, pampered 25 years; through a protected, privileged lens and utterly, objectively bored.

Undeniably, despite her avid wish to believe towards the contrary and her _hatred_ for all things idiomatically cliché, she was a living testament to the tried and tested caveat that: money doesn’t buy you happiness.

Not that she’d ever admit it aloud. Nor was she entirely comfortable even thinking it inside her own head. Nor, under any circumstances, did she ever wish to be _without_ her fortune. But, alas, the sad truth remained; the girl who had _everything_ , was lacking so much.

She sighed softly, shifting her slim body on the sumptuous black leather of her seat.

Life for her had always been nothing but the finest. The finest houses, the finest clothes, the finest toys and hobbies and vacations and food. The _finest_ schooling, the finest university education, the finest friends, children of royalty and diplomats and _old money_ families. The finest cars, the finest opportunities. The finest _lovers._ She had wanted for no object, no leisure pursuit, no interest left un-tried. Indeed, in a purely materialistic sense, life – for Cheryl Blossom – had been nothing but the **_finest_**.

However, limitless wealth did not bring love.

It did not bring a mother’s affection, or a father’s admiration. It did not soothe the ache of a child’s heart to witness themselves growing into ‘second best’, ‘second _favourite_.’ To be demonised and rejected, not even considered ‘ _the contingency plan’_ for the simple fact of having been born second, and, having been born _a girl_. To be surrounded by people, all the fucking time, and yet always to feel so profoundly alone. To reach adolescence and realise, with an innocent confusion, that one was not attracted to boys in the way one was socialised to do so. To find that their perception of beauty and lust and romantic interest resided in women alone. To fret, night after night, over such a discovery and when _finally_ bringing forth the courage to tell it to one’s parents, to be met with a disinterested apathy from one’s father and a displeased tut from one’s mother. To mature into _such_ a beauty. To develop beyond that of the aid of expensive clothes and the attractiveness of good breeding to grow up as truly _beautiful_. And yet to be valued as simply _that_. A pretty head on a perfect body. No substance, no appreciation beyond skin deep. No _more than_. To have intimacies and lovers and propositions and indiscretions and flings and relationships and even unrequited love affairs in delicious, wild abundance. To be able to simply click one’s pale, slender fingers, give a woman a look with those clever brown eyes and know beyond doubt that she would be _yours_. But only for one’s exterior. To love, and fall in love, but never to have anyone seek the same closeness from her, never to have those feelings reciprocated. To have only felt the familial, platonic love of one’s dear, dear brother. His affections and protections providing the only emotional sustenance for her childhood. And then to grow cold to it all. Hard to the world. To remain affectionate to her beloved Jason but to reject the necessity of love from anyone else, despite a deep, permanent, secret _craving_ for it.

And then, the final twisted nail in her coffin, to be jealous of the only person who had shown her love. To be _jealous_ of JJ. To resent the attention he’d never asked for and the responsibility within the family business that he had been given. To be far smarter, far quicker, far more cut-throat and astute and _qualified_ than he, and yet held at a distance from the inner-workings of the fortune. To remain as the family’s figurehead for the boring _legitimate_ side of their dealings, a voiceless seat on the Board of Directors with no _real_ power. Once again, condemned to be valued purely by her physical presence.

She frowned, teeth clenching in her mouth.

She saw Jason’s hatred for it all. His pure heart wanting _nothing_ to do with it. She saw their father’s insistence that he take over one day and rule the goddamn world. She saw how he didn’t _want_ it.

But Cheryl wanted it.

She wanted her father’s attention and acceptance. She wanted the _power_. She wanted to be in control.

She wanted it _all_.

She scoffed to herself, trailing a red fingernail absently over the pane of the car window, feeling the vibrations of the road passing through it.

Indeed, she thought mirthlessly, hadn’t her life just been _the **finest**_ **.**

“Otto, make a left here and take the long route.” She ordered quietly, watching from the corner of her eye as his reflection in the rear-view mirror nodded its head.

But now this.

This Serpent girl.

Or rather _woman_ , she should say. Seemingly of a similar age to herself. She had looked so small. So delicate and yet so _fiercely_ defiant. So proud and strong and craving independence. Unwilling, at any juncture, to show vulnerability even in such horrendous circumstances.

Cheryl’s red lips quirked into a slight smirk, her eyes flicking over the abundance of passing scenery.

So _like her_ , she thought.

She was a refreshing change. So much lavish opportunity in one’s life, eventually, made _everything_ seem mundane. But this, _this girl_. This was something _new_. So unlike the horror stories she’d be woven to believe as a child about the Southside and its parasitic, insectoid populace. She was entrancing, captivating, intriguing. Something that Cheryl’s ever intellectual mind wished to _study_.

She glanced down at her fingers, rubbing them slowly against her thumbs.

Her skin had been _so_ soft. Those smooth, clear, brown cheeks gliding perfectly beneath her finger tips.

And her _lips_.

Cheryl closed her eyes, head sinking back on the seat as she let out a sigh.

God, she remembered how her lips had moved so nicely on her pale fingers. Her mouth had bowed willingly to Cheryl’s indulgent touch and sent a thrill through to her very _bones_.

Cheryl had never seen anything like it. Never felt anything like it. Never been more damn _curious_ and _invested_ in anything in her entire life than she was in the existence of _this girl_.

And she was all hers. _All hers_.

Nothing that could be taken from her. Nothing to be favoured to Jason. Nothing for the rich, white men of their empire to push her away from and take over.

She was _hers_.

She bit her lip.

But, no.

This went beyond the heady feeling of holding power and control over another. This went beyond interest in the charmingly attractive face of a once-fabled Southside _evil_.

This was an opportunity for her to progress. This had been _given_ to her _by her father_.

Cheryl wasn’t going to let this slip from her fingers simply because they were too distracted by the touching of an _unfathomably_ pretty woman.

Perhaps her father had noticed Jason’s sub-par business mind. Perhaps he was beginning to understand that the fate of the fortune and the propagation of the untouchable, unfailing glory of the family were infinitely more important than having his son at the head. Perhaps, _just **perhaps**_ , he was beginning to lift the blinding veil from his traditionalist eyes and see that Cheryl, despite her many emotional complications and _deviant_ nature, was the true, chosen _heir_.

She sat up straight, determined eyes looking out over the expanse of estate land as the infamous ‘ _interrogation barn_ ’, one of the many that were renovated by her father many years ago to hold hostages, loomed into view.

She would do this. She would succeed. She would interrogate this girl, she would acquire the _invaluable_ information they needed, she would singlehandedly bring about the end of one the Blossom’s most insidious rivals and she would, _finally_ , be accepted.

She would be validated in the eyes of her family.

She would be famed throughout the lands as the twin to one day rule over them all.

She would have trust, and responsibility, and inclusion.

Cheryl Blossom would finally have the one thing, besides love, that she’d ever _truly_ craved.

She would have **_power_**.

 

 

She stood back, arms tugging her long, woollen Macintosh over her chest as a cold breeze blew in from the ground outside and swirled around her feet, watching Otto reappear from the holding cell through the hatch in the ground, a bucket held carefully in his hand.

“Dispose of the waste _far_ away outside and stay there until you are called back.” She demanded, her nose turned up in disgust as she stepped forward, her expensive heels scraping dryly along the dusted ground.

“Yes, Miss Blossom.”

“Where is the bag we brought?”

“Down there in the far corner, Miss Blossom.”

“Very well, be gone.”

She waved her gloved hand, curling it daintily into her hair to push it back from her shoulder as she looked down in the dark hole, taking a careful step onto the metal of the staircase.

“Oh and Otto.” She called, watching as he turned around, “ _No one_ is to have access to her except me. You understand?”

“Certainly, Miss Blossom.”

She nodded, sucking in cold air through her nose.

The pounding of her heart against her chest increased with each step down that she took, her breathing catching quickly in her throat as she tried to calm the excitement churning within her.

She took the final pace, planting her feet into the concrete floor and felt a shiver run through as the temperature dropped considerably. The winter was imminently approaching Riverdale, its cold, chilling breath misting ever closer to the town as the days passed and here, beneath the ground, it felt almost as if it had already arrived, settled comfortably and deeply into the very _soil_.

The smell of damp and earth and dust bunged her nose as she spotted the small mass of Serpent sitting in the far corner, exactly as she’d left her two days ago, and she smiled, stepping slowly over to her.

Remember why you’re here, Cheryl.

She moved stealthily, controlled, as if encroaching on a wounded animal - which in essence, she supposed, she _was -_ and came to a stop at the Serpent girl’s feet, raising a frowning red brow as the smile dropped from her face.

The girl was shivering. Hideously so. Her little body all but bouncing on the cold concrete of the ground as her teeth audibly chattered and her tiny legs shook against her chest. Cheryl could see the valiant effort with which the girl was trying not to, her muscles stiffened tensely and her face the utter picture of indifferent defiance as she peered woefully up at her.

Despite all this, the cold and the shivering and the small stature of her, Cheryl noted that she did not look pitiful. She did not look _pathetic_. She looked cold and annoyed, but still noble. Still fighting.

Cheryl liked it.

She was, quite suitably, impressed.

An easy target was no fun. She loved, and wanted, a _challenge_. Craved the opportunity to wear her down and battle on until she _finally_ relinquished.

To have power over a person was gorgeous.

To have power over a truly _strong_ person was **_orgasmic_**.

Cheryl liked it _a lot._

“You poor thing,” She drawled, a smirk tickling at her lips as she gazed over that pretty little face. “You must be _freezing_.”

She watched as the girl turned away, silent as always.

Gosh she really did have such big eyes, she recalled. Shining beautifully in the dim light from above.

The spark within them burned brightly, just as Cheryl had noticed upon their first meeting, and she wondered briefly what it would be like to have those eyes look at her with anything but disdain.

She sighed.

Remember why you’re _here_ , Cheryl.

She bent down to unzip the duffle bag that Otto had carried down for her, reaching inside to retrieve a thick blanket, bundling it neatly in her arms as she moved to crouch next to the girl.

“Here.”

She unravelled it with a swift swoop of her arms, laying it over her, noting how she didn’t flinch away _this_ time, and tucked it tightly around her, taking her time to feel along the contours of her body as she fixed it securely to her.

“That should make you more comfortable.”

She pulled back slightly, catching the girl’s eyes and stopped, watching as the confusion and genuine _hatred_ in them melted away to something else. Something akin to a reluctant gratitude.

Surely not?

Cheryl inched closer, her eyes flicking between the others as she felt soft breath puffing lightly onto her face.

No. She had been right.

The girl was _grateful_.

How _interesting_.

She began to move her pale hands lazily over the toned legs beneath the blanket, rubbing them slowly up and down in languid circles to create a warming friction and bless the frigid skin below with seeping heat from her palms.

They stared, neither moving a muscle, save for Cheryl’s keen, wandering fingers, until the shivering seemed to slowly subside and she gently pulled away.

My _god_ those big eyes were pretty.

She dropped her gaze then to the shapely, chapped lips of the girl as they parted beautifully, two words slowly falling from them.

“Thank you.”

The voice was different from the last two words she had spoken to Cheryl those days ago.

No longer spat, harsh and gritty.

This time it was raspy and low, gravelled from recent thirst and stress but also from what sounded to Cheryl’s ears like years of cigarettes. Yet it still remained charming, sweet and calm and naturally velvety, grating its grainy texture through her muscles to smooth over them like sandpaper, delicious and croaky and sensual. It sent a shiver of her own along Cheryl’s spine.

She ignored it as best as she could, her smirk widening.

“Now I trust food and water provisions reached you?” She chirped smugly, knowing full well that any demand she ever made was always carried out to perfection.

She watched the girl nod her head.

Cheryl’s smirk slid into a grin. Satisfied and menacing.

“Oh _good_. Now, as I have been _oh so_ accommodating to give you sustenance and travel here _personally_ to grace you with not only my wonderful presence but also this _life saving_ blanket,” she peeled her eyes over it, watching the smooth undulations of the body beneath it carefully, “it is now time for my kindness to be repaid, serpent.”

She stood, looming powerfully over the small girl as she squinted up at her, watching Cheryl guardedly as she removed her leather gloves from pale hands.

“If you comply, I will think about loosening your restraints and rewarding you in turn, understood?”

The girl cleared her throat weakly, jaw clenching with a well-hidden rage as she nodded again.

Cheryl licked her red lips, bending her head to peer into her face.

Pretty.

She grinned wider.

Dear _God_ how she _loved **power**_.

“Now,” She murmured, her naturally commanding voice dropping lowly, “tell me your _name_.”

 

 


	3. Fodder For The Maple Trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome back. Just going to reiterate that there will be no non-con in this fic. Cheryl's giving off some weird vibes, and we'll get to realize her personality gradually, but fundamentally it's stemming mainly from a ridiculously potent attraction and intelligent curiosity. Nothing traumatizing will be happening for you readers. However, having said that, a light trigger warning for some brief mentions of imaginary violence and blood in this one. Hope you enjoy it! Peace.

 

 

Toni stared coldly at Cheryl, the new warmth of the blanket relaxing her stiff muscles and the memory of the stroking path of Cheryl’s hands still tingling across her legs.

Two days.

Two goddamn days she’d been _left_. The only interaction in all that time having arrived in the form of the elusive ‘ _Otto’_ as he’d dumped her rations in front of her and emptied her bucket, leaving without a word in the space of mere minutes.

Two fucking days.

It was torture.

She _needed_ stimulation. Something to hear, something to see outside of the overbearing gray walls.

Someone to _talk to_.

She could never, in her entire life, stand loneliness.

Growing up with a pseudo-family of trailer park kids, families – not always related by blood – in a converging ensemble to play and talk and eat and _live_ as a unit. Together. Never alone.

Having arrived home to her uncle’s trailer countless nights of her life to discover that she had been locked out, and sharing a bed or a couch or a floor with friends and neighbours and schoolmates. Having been an integral part of the Serpents since she was born and spent many hours of the evening sat on the bar of the Wyrm, the patrons serving as makeshift parents to feed her and hold her and help her with homework. Having been _constantly_ afraid of the threat of rejection and abandonment, the hopeless dread of being truly left to her own devices, without guidance or support or money or _company_.

It was far more painful to her than any cut or slap.

It was _torture._

She had _almost_ felt a rush of hope, of all fucking things, as she’d heard the clipped tones of Cheryl’s snobbish voice floating through the floorboards. Despite her _disgusting_ family and _disgusting_ nonchalance to holding her hostage she was _there_ and she was someone.

She was _company_.

She watched Cheryl heave a sigh, rolling her quick brown eyes at Toni.

“I will take the blanket _away,_ serpent.” She threatened, her voice remaining light and bored, jaded by Toni’s silence. Toni didn’t believe her words. Not from the gentleness with which she’d given the blanket to her. “I shall simply leave.” Cheryl continued, gazing at her nails casually, “And take my bag of candy bars with me…” Toni watched a luxurious woollen coat rising and falling as Cheryl shrugged her slim shoulders, huffing a sigh, “…and not come back for,” she seemed to pretend to ponder, “let’s say… two weeks? Give you enough time to _remember your **name**_.”

Panic shot hotly through Toni’s chest, her back straightening painfully against the steel pole behind her.

Two weeks?

_Two weeks._

Alone.

Here.

Two weeks.

With nothing.

 _No one_.

No.

No, she couldn’t.

She opened her mouth desperately, willing herself to stay strong. She didn’t _want_ to give in. Just like she hadn’t _wanted_ to say ‘thank you’ to the sadistic bitch.

But, despite her bravery and feigned bravado… she also didn’t want to _die_.

Toni didn’t **want to die.**

She couldn’t bear to think that her sad little trailer park, crime infested, life was all there was for a smart, pretty girl with a good eye for taking photographs. She hadn’t experienced nearly enough joy as she thought she was worthy.

She didn’t want to die.

And least of all, deep down in the profoundest depths of her soul which housed her greatest, truest fears, she didn’t want to die _alone_.

She couldn’t survive two weeks, even if the food continued to arrive, which she highly doubted it would.

 _Two goddamn weeks_.

She peeled her eyes over Cheryl’s expectant face, watching as the last grains of sand trickled through the hour glass of her patience.

Don’t let yourself be forgotten, Toni. Don’t let yourself waste away down here, in some dank, pitiful mafia oubliette, only for your worthless carcass to be dragged – feet first – up those hollow metal steps and thrown into a shallow grave to rot away, namelessly, as fodder for the maple trees. To posthumously nourish the very _industry_ that killed you.

Don’t do it.

_You want to **live**._

She swallowed, her mind flicking quickly through her options.

She could give a fake name. She’d thought about it for all of a nanosecond. But that would be no good. The Blossoms would have ways of finding out that she had lied and then it would render anything that she said to them as useless, immediately assumed to be false information, and then they would no longer have need for her as an informant.

No need for her at all.

And they wouldn’t keep what they didn’t need.

She realised grimly, supressing a gulp, that she had seen their faces, seen her holdings, knew her general territory and location.

They couldn’t risk releasing that precious intelligence back to the Serpents.

No, quite simply, they would kill her.

She **needed** to remain useful.

_Fodder for the maple trees, Toni._

_You **want to live**_ **.**

“Alright, serpent. Enough. I’m bored. You had your chance.” Cheryl sighed, twirling in a flourish of coat as she moved towards the bag.

Toni sucked in a jagged breath.

**_You want to live._ **

“Toni.” She croaked, her voice weak from malnourishment and disuse.

Cheryl stopped, turning to her slowly.

They locked eyes; Toni blinking hers to hide her defeat.

 _You’re not defeated yet, Toni. This is about **survival**_.

“My name… is Toni.”

Cheryl plunged her teeth sumptuously into the red of her bottom lip and Toni could almost _see_ her name rolling languidly through Cheryl’s mind, the curves and edges of the cadence being moulded into her memory.

She bent down again, reaching out a slender hand to push some hair from Toni’s face, curling it behind her ear with a perturbing tenderness. She was flicking her eyes over Toni quizzically, as if matching the name to the face, and she seemed to conclude that, indeed, it was fitting as she stretched her bitten lip into a smile.

“Toni…” She repeated quietly, stroking the warm pad of her pale finger against Toni’s cheek as she pulled her hand back. Her voice was so beautifully articulate. The kind of voice in which a 4 year old Toni would’ve wished to have had her bedtime stories read to her, had she ever actually had a bedtime story read to her. She was so unfamiliar with the grandeur that exuded so naturally from this _Cheryl Blossom_ that her unfortunate circumstances seemed to blur at the edges for a moment, finding herself actually _enjoying_ the way that her name fell from red lips. She wanted to hear it again. Cheryl’s lips tilted upwards gently, flicking her eyes to Toni’s mouth. “Toni _what_?”

The question was not a surprise to Toni, in fact, she had expected nothing less. But the way in which it had been asked, now that certainly was. Cheryl’s voice was no longer demanding. No longer fishing for information. Her face was soft and her eyes intrigued, asking the name as if meeting casually at a party through mutual friends.

Genuinely, innocently, interested.

“Topaz.” Toni answered quietly, clearing a lump from her throat.

Cheryl’s eyes brightened with an oddly childlike glee.

“ _Toni Topaz_.” She practically hummed, placing a hand on Toni’s knee, the warmth seeping through the blanket, as she leaned further closer. “ **Toni**. **Topaz**. T…T.” She mused playfully, tilting her head.

God this girl could flit between genuine and sinister with a _disturbing_ fluidity.

“TT.” She concluded, inching her face forward to ghost the tip of her nose against Toni’s cheek, the draft of a deep inhale cooling the skin and releasing in a warm hum. “I like that.”

Her red lips brushed gently on Toni’s face as she spoke, and were it not for the brick wall behind her head blocking her path, Toni would have pulled back. Whether from fear or the desire to steal a glance at that mesmerising red mouth, she wasn’t willing to dwell on.

No, Toni. _Stop it. She’s a **Blossom bitch**_.

“Good girl, TT.” Cheryl chirped in her ear, pulling back from her slowly to look into her eyes. “You’ve earned yourself a reward. You see how easy it is when you just cooperate?”

 _There_ was the fucking **bitch** again.

Toni’s nostrils flared.

God, how she _hated_ to be patronised.

“I’ll finally put you out of your misery, _Toni.”_

Toni watched as Cheryl moved across to the bag, laying her hands quickly upon the items she needed and appeared to stuff them into her coat pockets. All but one.

A hunting knife.

She turned to Toni, a troublingly matter-of-fact look in her eyes as she placed a stiletto-clad foot either side of Toni’s thighs and sat herself firmly onto her lap, straddling her hips.

She raised the knife slowly, the cool metal glinting in the light of the ceiling bulb.

Oh **_Fuck_.**

She didn’t want to die.

She _didn’t want to die._

She wanted to travel.

She wanted to get the fuck out of Riverdale.

She wanted to fall in love again and capture the perfect sunrise set against the skyline of some European city scape through her camera lens.

She wanted to find happiness and freedom and _normality._

 ** _She didn’t want to die_**.

Cheryl’s words ran sickeningly through her head.

_‘…Where is your Serpent tattoo?’_

_‘… God, so sad, your skin would be so perfect if not for this...’_

She felt bile rising in her throat as visions of blood oozing from her hip and sharp, agonising pain searing through her body, and Cheryl fucking Blossom standing over her, brandishing her little trophy flap of tattooed skin tauntingly in her face before she set to work to _finish her off._

**_Sadistic Blossom Bitch._ **

Her breathing hitched, her legs scuffing uselessly beneath Cheryl’s weight as panic froze her body.

“Shhh, shhh… don’t fight it.” Cheryl hushed, leaning forward to push herself into Toni’s body. She pressed them together tightly, emitting a pleasantly satisfied grunt into her ear that was oh so familiar to Toni, having heard it many times from any other man or woman with whom she'd lain against. Had she not been seconds from horrific death, Toni would’ve allowed herself to feel smug.

Cheryl lifted the knife, curling her arms around Toni’s back and Toni squeezed her eyes shut, wriggling helplessly as Cheryl breathed hotly against her ear. She felt the metal of the knife against her wrist, tugging along it slowly and she let out a dry sob, surrendering herself to the inevitable pain.

But it never came.

Instead of a rush of blood, the surge of pain, she heard the snap of the cable ties as they were cut and the tingly sensation of comfort return to her hands. Before she could react to push Cheryl from her and apprehend the weapon for herself she felt the cold hardness of a handcuff clip snugly around one of her wrists, the other cuff clinking around the steel pole behind her.

She opened her eyes, red hair misting her vision.

She’d freed her.

Cheryl Blossom had freed her hands, somewhat at least, and fulfilled her promise.

She hadn’t killed her.

Hadn't even _marked_ her.

What the _fuck?_

Toni breathed raggedly, shallow, tiny breaths puffing tensely from her lips as she watched Cheryl lean backwards, tossing the knife into the duffle bag behind her.

“There,” Cheryl smiled at her, shifting her weight on her lap with a hum, “More comfortable, no?”

Toni couldn’t dare to move a muscle, the odd relief of being suspended between this life and the next still reeling in her head.

“Now you have more freedom to move around, and one hand free.” Cheryl explained, her red lips tugged into a tight grin.

Jesus she really thought she was doing her a _favour_.

Toni supposed, in all actuality, that she was. She had only told her her _name_. And she’d done this, as small as the token seemed.

Were the roles reversed, and the Blossom bitch _Toni’s_ prisoner, Toni couldn’t promise that she’d be so humane.

“However…” Cheryl murmured, long fingers reaching up to sift through Toni’s hair, gripping gently, _just_ tight enough at the roots to set Toni’s stilled heart racing, massaging her hands deftly against her scalp. Toni fought the urge to flutter her eyes shut, the simple, unappreciated pleasure of being able to run fingers through her hair snatched away from her for the past few days.

“I must check for bobby pins...” Cheryl continued, her search finished and exhausted without finding any pins, yet her hands still moving indulgently through Toni’s hair, “…can’t have you picking the lock, now, can we?” She stilled her fingers, dropping them slowly down Toni’s neck and letting out a stuttered breath.

She studied Toni’s face closely, her eyes resting for _too damn long_ on her chapped mouth.

Toni shifted beneath her, unnerved.

“Now promise me you won’t try to get out of this…” Cheryl said softly, nibbling at her own lip, “There are guards outside these premises. If you manage to free yourself they will apprehend you under _any means necessary_ ,” She dropped her voice to a whisper, reaching up to rub her thumb over Toni’s lip, her eyes fascinatedly transfixed, “and I’d be most disappointed to hear that. I have much more use for you yet, Toni Topaz.”

Toni felt her ears burn at the sound of her name and swallowed thickly, the nausea from the surplus of adrenaline at the thought of losing her life settling uneasily in her stomach.

She nodded, pink strands ruffling against her shoulders.

Cheryl raised an eyebrow, flattening her fingers against Toni’s lips.

“Use your words, TT.” She commanded, eyes still intensely focussed.

_I have much use for you yet._

Dear god, thank you. **Thank you _._** Your existence may not have been important until now. But, please don’t shame or judge for the momentary lapse in courage. _Thank you_.

She took a closer look at Cheryl’s eyes, examining them properly for the first time and fought to keep the surprise from her face.

There was intellect, focus, fascination, twisted curiosity and… Toni couldn’t quite believe it… _lust._

It was unmistakable.

Undeniable.

She’d seen that look directed at her thousands of times by thousands of eyes.

 _I have much use for you yet_.

She felt sickness bubbling in her stomach, a fearful, worried distaste but also a _thrill_. A sick, satisfied thrill.

The famed Cheryl Blossom _wanted **her**_ **.**

_She needed to remain useful._

She deliberated for a mere second inside her head before pushing her head forward to press her lips against Cheryl’s fingers.

Well then, so be it.

Dear Lord, don’t judge me.

 _This was about **survival**_ **.**

 **“** I promise…” She whispered, eyes locked and lips brushing pale skin, “… _Cheryl.”_

She watched as a ragged breath left Cheryl’s mouth, her chest rising and falling.

“Good.” She whispered in return, blinking her eyes forcefully before removing herself from Toni’s lap.

She flattened her dress, standing straight and fluffed the perfect curls of her hair.

“So,” She murmured, pressing her lips together and almost, _almost_ , convincing Toni that she was not flustered, “Now that you’re talking…” She reached behind her into the bag to retrieve a candy bar, unwrapping it slowly and holding it _just_ far enough away that Toni’s desperately hungry hands could not reach for it. “…let us begin.”

_She **had** to remain **useful.**_

**_Please let the Serpents be close._ **

 

 


	4. Obsessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! bit of a cliff hanger this one, but the next shall reveal more so don't worry. thank you to everyone for leaving comments or kudos, very kind of you! I hope you enjoy this one too! Any questions or remarks or any old shit you want to put in the comments, go ahead, we can have a nice chat. Peace out.

 

 

 

Cheryl was obsessed.

Plain and simple.

And, to some extent, she was not to blame.

A life of wanton abundance never taught the soul when enough was **enough**.

How could she know? How could she know when to ease off, to slow down?

Always _more_.

Always **_hers_**.

**always.**

Just like she had been obsessed with her little first edition copy of ‘The Secret Garden’ when she was 6 years old.

And just like she had been obsessed with her pair of black patent riding boots when she was 12.

And _just_ like she had been obsessed with the girl from school with whom she had snuck into Thornhill Manor night after night and lost her virginity at 17.

Obsessed.

**_Always_ obsessed.**

Thus, nonetheless, for her, _obsession_ still lacked any negative connotation.

It was not a _bad_ thing.

How could interest and study and passion and concentration and possessiveness and intelligent fascination be _bad_ things in a world which had been so cruel to her?

She simply wanted these things to _feel_ the affection she bestowed so desperately upon them and for them to _love her_ just as fiercely in return.

Indeed, the progression of obsession throughout her development had instilled within her a keen sense of focus and tenacity. It was through her obsessions that her only true, basic _cravings,_ of love and power, had been married together.

A pricelessly valuable set of disciplines through which a _business_ could be expertly run, for instance.

However, somewhere within early adolescence the lines had been muddied and she had never truly learned to separate her childhood obsessions with _objects_ from her teenage obsession with _women_.

So the fact remained, perhaps unsurprisingly, that, to Cheryl Blossom, people -attractive, enticing women more specifically - were merely _things_.

And, as she watched Toni’s small hand reach up to brush pink hair away from dry, cracked lips, their gorgeous plumpness wrapping gently around the girth of a candy bar and a dextrous little tongue reaching out to wet them clean, _this_ thing, she decided, was indeed an attractive, enticing woman.

And, just as she’d suspected, Cheryl was _obsessed_ with her.

But such intense focus in a sole direction, such limited tunnel vision towards objects of her desire, remained as one of Cheryl Blossom’s few, and very well hidden, weaknesses. She had never quite learned her lesson about leaving herself, and her _heart_ , open to manipulation or, God forbid, attack.

Always convinced they felt the same way.

Always fucking _obsessed_.

“So, you are a lifelong member of the Serpents, you are 25 years old,” just as she’d suspected, the same age, how _delightful_ , “and your name is Toni Topaz.” Cheryl rattled off, counting the points on her pale fingers as she sat opposite Toni on the cold, hard ground, her back set primly against the perpendicular wall and her crossed legs stretched out in front of her.

Toni swallowed her lump of candy bar, nodding her head in confirmation as she took another bite.

So much for _interrogation_ , Cheryl. What useless information. Stop giving her rewards for the bare minimum and **_get to the important stuff_**.

Toni let out a little sniff, the dust evidently irritating her nose.

_Cheryl… remember **why** you’re **here** …_

Cheryl couldn’t help but feel her chest flutter at such an endearingly human reaction.

_Cheryl…_

She cleared her throat, for one of the first times in her life ignoring the impatient voice in her mind.

No, she couldn’t rush this as she’d initially thought. She _wouldn’t_.

This needed time.

She watched Toni’s chest rise and fall in shallow breaths and a tanned little fist, balled around the last scraps of her precious candy, rubbed gently at her tired eye.

 _Pretty_.

Starkly, _humanly_ pretty.

Yes, this definitely needed time.

“What is it that you do for the Serpents exactly, Toni?”

Cheryl liked the name. Toni. TT. It rolled from her tongue so happily, so easily. Short and sweet.

Just like her.

She watched Toni’s fatigued little hands peeling back the final portion of the wrapper as her leather clad shoulders moved slowly in a shrug.

Cheryl sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Not _good_ enough I’m afraid.” She tutted, “I have spare cable ties in this bag should you wish to remain insolent enough to be restrained by them _again_.”

Toni’s eyes met hers, bright and _daring_. Defiantly goading her to **do it _._**

Still such fight left in her, how utterly _delicious_.

Time to catch more flies with honey, it seemed.

“I see,” Cheryl chirped, pressing her red lips together as she reached inside the duffle bag to retrieve a thermos. “Or, alternatively, I have here some warm coffee. Columbian. Finely roasted. Ground into perfect aromatic rubble and steamed for _exactly_ 45 seconds. Hot and nourishing and _comforting_ , TT. It would warm you to your very bones.”

She raised an eyebrow in challenge as Toni’s head lifted slowly, eyes fixed on the flask in her hand and her throat moving anxiously as she appeared to almost _taste_ it.

“In fact I wouldn’t mind keeping it all to myself,” Cheryl continued, fingers unscrewing the lid as the rich smell of the beans permeated the air around her, “Perhaps if you’re happy to sit there in silence you can watch me drink it all.”

She paused, eyes trained to Toni’s conflicted face.

“What is…” She repeated slowly, sitting up from the wall to inch closer, “…your role in the Serpents?”

Toni swallowed, their eyes meeting.

“I tend bar at the Whyte Wyrm.”

Cheryl let out a sigh.

“You really just don’t want to help yourself, do you, Cha-Cha?”

She moved to replace the lid when suddenly a small, brown hand came to rest upon hers.

Cheryl’s breath hitched, staring down at it, the knuckles littered with pale, old scars and the shaking fingers and wrist bruised and yellowing. It was so small, resting neatly over hers, battered with a history of violence so clearly written on the skin.

But good God it was so _soft_.

Cheryl watched the neat juxtaposition of the skin tones as they met, mesmerised by how such dissonant colors complemented together so nicely, a perfect dichotomy of hues that were _destined_ to meld.

In another universe, she pondered, another time, another fate far more fair and happy and joyful that Cheryl was cursed never to know, how else might these colors have become one?

How else might these two hands have held each other?

She blinked, a slow breath leaving her.

“I tend bar at the Whyte Wyrm. It’s true.” Toni croaked, her tired voice rasping with insistence as she bent her head to encourage Cheryl to meet her gaze. “There are lots of things I do for the Serpents. But my _role_ , is to tend bar.”

Cheryl flicked her eyes between Toni’s, the message conveyed loud and clear to her intelligent mind.

“You provide the legitimate front.” Cheryl concluded for her, realisation misting her whispered voice.

Toni nodded.

They were more alike than either realised.

Cheryl stared a moment longer, Toni’s gaze never relenting from her own, and flicked her eyes to Toni’s lips. She felt the little hand on top of hers squeeze her pale knuckles lightly and tried desperately to calm her insides.

 _You’re obsessed_.

Those lips had pushed back into her fingers willingly, promising her not to escape. She had seen the look in Toni’s eyes as she’d said it. And here she was, tenderly placed together and joined at the hands.

_Cheryl no, remember why you’re here._

Did this Serpent feel the same palpable energy between them? The fateful feeling of two such opposites magnetised by a force more powerful than them?

The same **_obsession_**?

Did she?

Cheryl lifted the thermos, offering it to her, their eyes glued together.

Was she perhaps playing along to bide time to escape?

Toni took it, her fingers brushing Cheryl’s lightly.

Or had she truly fallen for Cheryl’s charms? Her looks and her _selfless kindness_ towards this vagabond. Surely that was it. She was Cheryl Blossom for God’s sake. _Everyone_ wanted her. No doubt this poor little Serpent was entirely under her spell.

Surely _that_ was it.

She watched as Toni drank greedily, her big eyes closing and a light moan echoing into the flask.

It was quite the show if it was not real.

Cheryl hid a smirk, biting her lip as Toni placed the thermos on the ground.

“Worth it, wasn’t it?” She murmured, watching as Toni nodded, her tongue peeking out to lick her lips.

Cheryl shivered.

Toni seemed to notice, clearly misconstruing the action, and used her free hand to lift a portion of her blanket, draping it carefully over Cheryl’s legs.

Cheryl blinked, dumbfounded.

She was _sharing_ with her.

The serpent was _sharing with **Cheryl Blossom**_ **.** Her captor. Her enemy.

No one had ever shared anything with Cheryl in all her life.

_Surely she was obsessed too…_

She reached out, spying a lone speck of chocolate in the corner of Toni’s mouth and swiped it away with her thumb, enjoying the smooth softness of her cheek beneath the pads of her pale fingers, and drew her hand back.

Her eyes watched Toni’s carefully as her red lips closed around it and sucked the sweet morsel from her thumb.

They stared, silent for a moment.

“You provide a legitimate front to _what_?”

Toni seemed to dwell on her question, deliberating her answer as she pressed the last chunk of candy bar past her _captivating_ lips and chewed on it slowly.

Cheryl watched the muscles of her jaw working, shadows dancing across her slender cheeks in the low light and let her leg press against Toni’s beneath the blanket.

_You’re obsessed, Cheryl._

_This won’t end well for you._

Toni pushed the chocolate to the side of her cheek to speak.

“For the _other_ Serpent business.” She deadpanned.

Cheryl smacked the floor impatiently with her hand.

“What **other** business, Toni? Drugs? Guns?”

Toni dropped her head against the wall behind her.

“Drugs and guns.” She confirmed, closing her eyes.

Cheryl watched her carefully.

“And what else? What other business?”

Toni remained silent for a moment.

“That’s it.” She finally murmured.

Cheryl clenched her jaw, flipping back the blanket from her legs as she stood to her feet. She was no damn fool and she would _not_ be taken for one. Not by some fucking _snake,_ regardless of how pretty her face was.

“I have been _very_ lenient with you, **serpent**.” She hissed darkly, brushing the dust from the back of her coat. “I will not have you lying to me.”

She bent down until she was face to face with Toni, their noses almost touching.

“I am away on business for the next week. I _was_ going to allow you to be moved, have you housed in a more humane and _comfortable_ environment.” She whispered, “But clearly you don’t _deserve_ it. So I’ll leave you here instead. Perhaps seven more days of _this_ might help you to _remember_.”

She stood up straight, kicking over the thermos that lay next to Toni’s thigh and watching with sick satisfaction as the rest of the warm coffee spilled out onto the floor.

“And so long as your sudden amnesia isn’t contagious, I may have Otto visit you to clean your _shit_ bucket and bring you food. Maybe… if **_I remember._** ”

She watched Toni’s face and saw a brief second of pure panic. **Pure** panic. It flashed on her features so very briefly before her face was set and stony once again, her eyes wide.

“Very well, perhaps I’ll see you in a week, Toni Topaz. Perhaps I’ll leave it a while longer. Or perhaps…” She lowered her voice, biting her lip menacingly, “I will simply lock the door and _forget_ about you.”

That’d show her.

 “Adieu, ma Cherie.”

She turned in a flurry of black woollen coat and clipped her heels quickly across the room, reaching out her fingers for the frigid metal of the staircase.

“Wait.”

She stopped, a grin spreading smoothly over her face.

“Prostitution.” The little voice called out, sounding somewhat strained.

Cheryl raised a perfect eyebrow, turning swiftly on the spot.

“Pardon?” She chirped.

She heard Toni’s huff from across the room.

“Prostitution,” Toni repeated, “Murder for hire and sometimes deliveries. But it’s mainly just drugs and guns and that’s all I know.” She looked up at Cheryl in the dimly lit corner and shuffled away from the wall, “I promise.”

Cheryl was sure she knew more than that, but her desperation was _just_ at that pivotal point. The perfect balancing moment. If Cheryl continued to punish her she would clam up, but if she timed it _just_ right and rewarded her at this juncture, she’d sing like the pretty little bird that she was.

Her red lips tugged into a smirk.

“Deliveries to where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Goodbye then, Toni.”

“No, Cheryl. Wait… I don’t know where, but always out of state and usually Southbound.”

Cheryl licked her bottom lip slowly, taking every moment possible to enjoy getting used to how her name sounded from Toni’s mouth.

_Now **that’s** more like it, Cheryl._

**_The important information._ **

“Alright, serpent…” She called out, sighing as she raked her eyes over her, tipping her head and red curls falling from her shoulder, “You’ve earned your keep. For now. Let’s get you out of here, shall we?”

 

 

 


	5. Watch Your Step, Toni.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm utterly exhausted, just stepped off a plane. I'm not usually one to apologize for my work but this was written on pure adrenaline and desire to make an upload for all you lovely people so I am sorry if this does not meet your standards. However, it's what you've got. Please do let me know what you think of it, how you think the story is going etc, it's so vastly different from Scuff that I'm intrigued to see what it is that people like about it. Also, light trigger warning for very brief mentions of blood. Thank you, hope you enjoy!

 

 

 

Toni had never been so damn conflicted in her fucking life.

She resented being so reliant on _anyone_ for provision, let alone this Blossom bitch, but she needed to survive and thanks to the Serpents she knew every which way how to do so.

And the cardinal rule would always be:

Do **not** bite the hand that feeds.

If you need it, and it is provided:

You **take it.**

And so she had been taking it, at every opportunity she’d had, against all screaming contestations of her self-respect.

And Cheryl, amongst other things, had certainly been _giving_ it.

She had been content with the one hand free and a candy bar.

The coffee had been a welcome bonus too.

Even the shit bucket was a small token of human dignity.

But the threat of _at least_ one week in solitude coupled with the potential to be moved to more comfortable lodgings, the chance to _escape_.

It was too much to ignore.

She had to **_take it._**

She felt the hum of the road beneath her, her vision tented into complete darkness by a blindfold and her hands tied behind her back, palms pressed awkwardly into the smooth, ribbed leather of a luxury car seat.

And it was all because she was remaining _useful_.

Holding Cheryl’s curiosity.

Pimping herself.

She felt sick about it.

She felt sick at having to pretend to want to reciprocate Cheryl’s interest.

She felt sick at covering Cheryl’s legs with her blanket to attempt to convince the bitch that she cared.

She felt _sick_ at having to whore her lips out to the curious fingers of Cheryl’s elegant hands.

And she felt sick at the fact that, deep down - in the same hollow, stark depths that housed her fear of loneliness and death - she knew she didn’t _entirely_ hate it at all.

She didn’t truly _hate_ this charade. This pantomime of palpability between them.

Was she sickened by the fact that she had to do it?

Undoubtedly.

But was she sickened by the fact that it was _Cheryl Blossom_ with whom she had to pretend?

Not entirely.

She reasoned with herself that this was purely because, ultimately, it could be worse.

However, tenuous justifications aside, it was shameful. And she knew it. And she _hated_ herself for it.

If only her Serpents could see her.

Wherever they were.

But if she had to do this to survive, if she had to play along with this perverse back and forth that Cheryl was creating between them for just long enough to gain her trust and escape, then Toni would do it.

And she would do it **well.**

She had been given an opportunity.

And she would **take it.**

_Just long enough for the Serpents to rescue you, Toni._

_They’ll be close now._

_They’ll be **close**_.

And it was already working.

She could see it.

Pressing her toned thigh to that of Cheryl’s beneath the blanket. Opening her big eyes to gaze up at her when she purred out her demands. Pushing her lips against pale fingers to make promises she didn’t ever intend to keep with a well-practiced veil of false sincerity.

It made her pride ache, but her muscles and bones were far from it, relaxing gratefully into the plush upholstery, well on her way to a more comfortable holding.

It was _working_.

 ** _I have much use for you yet, Toni Topaz_**.

But, she **had** to remain useful.

Cheryl had fetched Otto, down into the hell hatch in which Toni had been housed for days now, to tie her hands behind her back for the move, instructing him not to fasten the restraints painfully - much to Toni’s intrigue – and had informed her that for security she would be travelling in the trunk of the car.

Toni had gazed at her, eyes wide and pleading, dragging her lower lip plumply between her teeth as she did so and watching with satisfaction as Cheryl’s eyes had dropped to them instantly, glazed and heavy-lidded.

“No. No, let me travel in the car.” Toni had whispered, her expertly honed feminine wiles working perfectly to manipulate Cheryl’s mind.

She’d seen the cogs turning beneath red hair and knew what she must do, a lifetime with the Serpents educating her on the art of reading people. Cheryl wanted her. She’d not spent entirely too long debating the implications behind this fact but she hadn’t needed to. All she needed to know was that it meant, despite her position, if she played this _just_ right and veiled her true intentions, she would have the upper hand and she could get out of here.

Toni could escape.

It was not difficult to notice, even in their short time together, that Cheryl was clearly enamoured with her mouth, fucking weirdo deviant _bitch_ , and Toni had used this fact to her advantage, dragging her tongue slowly across her lips as Cheryl stared intently at them, before uttering oh so softly,

“Please… _Cheryl?”_

And thus, rather than angling her little limbs painfully in the cramped trunk, she had found herself sitting comfortably in the back seat of the car.

Worked like a _charm_.

The first of many victories, she hoped.

She’d tried valiantly to determine their trajectory once again by feel of the road but this time it was to no avail, which in itself was indicative enough. She didn’t recognise the direction or terrain and thusly concluded this must be unchartered territory on Blossom land. There was very little of Riverdale in which Toni had not ridden her bike or stomped a path with her boots on some or other illegal venture with the Serpents, and so this unknown patch in which she found herself narrowed down her location _very_ specifically.

And would narrow it for the Serpents too.

_Please God let them be close._

She felt the wheels of the car arch heavily over a bump and the road dipped, the grit of asphalt changing to the rough, dull crinkle of grass beneath the tyres.

The warmth of a hand pressed gently onto her thigh, the slender fingers that she knew to be pale and beautifully manicured curling themselves into a steady grip as the smell of Cheryl’s hair drifted closer and red lips brushed against her ear.

“We’re here.” Cheryl’s voiced whispered.

Toni shivered.

_Stop it._

**_Think of the Serpents_ ** _._

The car slowed to a halt, two doors opening and closing with sequential thuds and Toni briefly pondered with some semblance of panic that she had trusted Cheryl’s word. Not that she was in any position to do otherwise outwardly but even inside her own head, she had not bothered to question if she were truly being escorted to another location for comfort or for something rather more sinister.

Like _execution_.

_You idiot, Toni. Stop getting **distracted**._

Could a pistol be waiting inside for her? Two worn patches on the ground upon which many poor souls before her had placed their knees as the gun cocked behind them, pressed slowly into their head and the trigger pulled, flopping their inconsequential bodies into a dead heap of dried blood no one cared enough to clean away.

_I have much use for you yet, Toni Topaz._

No.

No she was safe.

For now.

She was sure of it.

She felt a vacuum of cold air sweep over her face as the door next to her was opened, a larger, rougher hand than before gripping her arm as it began to pull her out unceremoniously.

“ ** _Otto!_** _”_ She heard Cheryl scold, a firm slap to skin resounding in the desolate silence. “How _dare_ you touch her without my permission, I _told_ you that I am the only one who may do so unless I say otherwise.”

Toni sat rigidly still, one leg dangling out of the door, pressed precariously to the softness of grass beneath her foot and the other still hooked at a right angle on the seat.

She heard Otto clear his throat.

“Apologies, Miss Blossom.”

Fucking _sap_ , Toni thought to herself.

But she understood him, in an odd way. Much like her, he was feigning an act towards Cheryl in order to gain something. For Toni it was freedom and for Otto, she supposed, it was safety and a wage.

Both of them were trapped by Cheryl Blossom.

At least _he_ had a way out.

“And if you _are_ given permission to touch her you do it _carefully_ , you **oaf**. How dare you manhandle my things in such a way.”

Toni’s spine snapped straight.

 _My **things**_ **.**

**Thing.**

Oh that fucking classist, deviant, evil, sadistic **Blossom bitch.**

God Toni couldn’t _wait_ to take her revenge.

Hands she knew to be Cheryl’s hooked themselves beneath her knees, placing her legs firmly on the ground and gripped their fingers into her hips, pulling her body deftly from the car to stand with an alarmingly well camouflaged strength.

She’d remember that for when she’d have to knock those Blossom teeth from Cheryl’s mouth.

One hand remained on her hip and the other came to rest on her arm, gripping tightly as she began to steer Toni forward. Toni felt her press her shapely body against her, grateful for the warmth, as soft breath brushed her face.

“Watch your step, Toni. It’s not far.”

 

 

 

 

Toni felt the blindfold lift from her face and blinked, adjusting her eyes to the artificial light of the room.

Concrete walls again, no windows, no doubt beneath the ground also.

But there were more lights, fluorescent and covered and neatly lined on the ceiling above her, placed at a less oppressive height than her dismal cell prior. She turned her head, noting another metal staircase leading to the ceiling with the same clinical stiffness and opposite laid a bed, rounded enamel frames encasing a mattress, stained and old.

A _bed_.

She could almost cry.

“I’ve had it cleaned. One doesn’t usually bother with hygiene for our ‘visitors’ here but I made the request especially.” Cheryl murmured from behind her, startling Toni in the silence of the dull humming bulbs.

Toni turned to look at her.

She was striking even in the harsh light.

_Toni, stop._

“There is a shower and a toilet, modest I must add, through that doorway.” Cheryl continued, pointing a pale finger across the small room, “And in that dresser you will find a radio and some books and a change of clothes that I acquired for you. I will have fresh clothes delivered to you each day that I am away.”

Toni nodded, glancing at the shabby wood of the dresser. Was that a blood stain adorning the corner?

She swallowed turning back to Cheryl.

“I will have your food delivered also. And you may make requests for certain items but don’t get any ideas above your station, you are still under my control and I will be informed of each request and grant permission for its procurement, do you understand, Toni?”

Toni nodded again.

Her arms were beginning to grow stiff and her shoulders groaned with aches as her hands remained tied behind her back. She rolled them, peeling her eyes over the dusty cement floor.

She noted that despite the frigid nature of the interiors and its subterranean level, she did not feel cold. She spied a metal radiator positioned closely to the bed, its paint chipped and more suspicious bloodlike stains littered across its curves.

More comfortable lodgings indeed.

Toni heard heels clip against the floor and turned around to see Cheryl now inches from her.

Her intelligent eyes dropped to Toni’s mouth immediately and Toni watched as Cheryl chewed delicately on her own red lip.

“You will be restrained whenever anyone enters the room, particularly when I am present. However you will be allowed to move freely when you are alone. I am confident that you will not be able to escape.” 

**_We’ll see about that._ **

“And anyway,” Cheryl continued, her voice dropping lowly as she stood an inch closer, “You promised me that you would not attempt to do so. Didn’t you?”

She flicked her eyes between Toni’s, her pale hands curling into fists in Toni’s peripheral vision.

Toni clocked the movement immediately and almost wanted to smirk.

The woman was _begging_ to reach out and touch her.

Toni nodded a third time, stepping closer to Cheryl.

 _Showtime_.

Cheryl’s chest inflated as the space between them grew smaller, eyes flicking to Toni’s neck as she seemed to clamp her teeth together.

_Remain useful, Toni._

She stepped closer still, the lapels of her Serpent jacket brushing briefly against Cheryl’s chest.

“Thank you.” Toni rasped, grinding a little more gravel into her voice as she kept her tone quiet, watching as a flush began to rise across Cheryl’s chest.

Got you, Blossom bitch.

The air around them appeared to grow still, heavily sitting suspended in time as the background noise and visuals vignetted into nothingness.

Cheryl truly was a sight to behold. A sensory treat indulgent to all who encountered her. The brightness of the lights illuminated far more of her face than had been visible in her dingy cell and Toni dragged her eyes over it almost gratefully. Anyone would appreciate the opportunity to rest their tired eyes on such a gloriously restorative portrait of a face, let alone an individual such as Toni who felt **far** more than mere _appreciation_ for the female form. Her red hair seemed richer, a warmer hue to its glistening length and for the second instance in their time together Toni wished to touch it. To part it gently with her nose and smell the bouquet of perfumes embedded within its strands.

Her eyes were then drawn to red lips as they parted slightly. They were so goddamn full. So plump. Naturally cushioned without the help of cosmetic procedure. Toni could only imagine how soft they were, such care no doubt taken with her skin. And skilled. _God._ The sensations they could bestow upon a partner. Toni was convinced that Cheryl was hardly short of willing participants, tongues loose in adoring awe, dropping to their knees before her heeled stature and begging simply to be _touched_.

Under different circumstances Toni couldn’t truthfully say that she wouldn’t react in much the same way.

Enchanting. Utterly, disarmingly enchanting.

Cheryl Blossom could truly have the _world_.

She **was** the world.

Toni felt herself tipping her head upwards, eyes glued to that red mouth, and blinked slowly.

 _Nothing_ would ever have felt like a kiss to those lips. Nothing Toni had ever had would _ever_ be as luxurious as _a kiss to **those** lips…_

Toni blinked again, inhaling sharply through her nose.

**_Stop it._ **

**_You may be intrigued by such a sight and you may be starved of company but don’t you dare leave yourself open to this abysmal Stockholm syndrome of attraction._ **

**_She is pretty, Toni._ **

**_But she’s a Blossom Bitch._ **

**_And you?_ **

**_Merely a thing._ **

**_Stop getting distracted._ **

**_Just. Stay. Useful._ **

Cheryl appeared to take a moment longer before clearing her hazy eyes.

“I will return in a week.” She whispered breathily, her curious hands _finally_ being permitted to reach out and play idly with a strand of pink hair.

Toni didn’t back away.

“I will have someone keep an eye on you each day until I return.”

At least there was that.

Toni watched as Cheryl dragged a finger across her tanned cheek to her chapped bottom lip, caressing it with a fascinated softness. She pulled her finger back, pausing, before bringing it to her own mouth, her eyes fluttering slightly as she let out an airy sigh.

Fuck.

Deviant Blossom Bitch.

**_Then why don’t you hate it, Toni?_ **

Toni swallowed, clearing her mind.

Cheryl draped her eyes over Toni’s face a final time before clicking her heels over to the staircase slowly, climbing the metal stairs with a prim elegance befitting only to her. She knocked twice on the hatch door above her, glancing at Toni once more before natural light streamed down onto her face as the door opened above her.

She hesitated, knuckles white as they gripped the stair rail.

“Goodbye, Toni.”

And then she was gone, ascended once more back into the Olympus in which she belonged, the heavenly heights above Toni’s captured, mortal head to which she was potentially damned never to see.

The door closed with a hopeless finality and Toni sighed, not yet willing to let the tears fall.

_Not yet._

Just a week, Toni.

Just a week.

_The Serpents are **close.**_

 

 

 


	6. Marlboro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So great to hear that so many of you are enjoying this as much as Scuff, so cool of you all because I'm really enjoying writing it. This chapter has some smut, but I warn you now it is not Cheryl/Toni, it's Cheryl and someone else. HOWEVER, be chill about it yeah? hahah it's a really, really necessary plot device. Lots more sexual tension as per usual and some mentions of injuries/blood for those of you who wish to be forewarned. Hope you enjoy it! If you'd like to, let me know what you think!

 

 

 

Cheryl could think of nothing else.

**Nothing** else.

Business used to be her forte, her _thing_ , her one true passion, aside from her art, that had led her to bother to awake each morning, that had held her feet steadily to the ground.

The one _and only_ thing that had stopped her from leaving her acidic family and taking a match to the hideous powder keg burden of the Blossom name.

But now, after three days of boardroom meetings, and shaking hands, and sycophantic brownnosers and bootlickers approaching her at every interval to flatter the _heiress_ into bestowing upon them some corporate patronage only to forego asking her opinion on important matters, she’d found that she was fucking _bored_ of it.

It could no longer hold her attention as it once did.

Indeed, the only thing that _could_ was the thought of a little Serpent huddled neatly in a cell below the ground of an old barn in which her family kept their polo equipment.

That and _nothing else._

Cheryl wondered what Toni was thinking.

What she was doing.

Was she thinking of Cheryl too?

She had been walking through the lobby of her hotel on the evening of the third day, strutting her way to the elevators as the watchful eyes of Otto and her other personal bodyguard Jonathon surveyed her movements from either side of the room, when a young woman who had explained herself to be an intern from Blossom Corp., had approached her, tentatively, with a portfolio of notes, that her father no doubt knew Cheryl would already be well versed on, to read over for the next day.

Cheryl, never usually one to even acknowledge the presence of _staff_ , had ceased the swift clicking of her heels upon the polished marble tiles and stopped dead in her tracks, draping her eyes over the woman.

She was shorter, only reaching the height of Cheryl’s shoulder even with heels on her feet, with big light brown eyes, almond shaped and wide and brightly spirited. Her skin was smooth and despite the soft traces of day-worn makeup that Cheryl spied upon her face, a scattering of little freckles peeked out to adorn the bridge of her nose and cheeks, set upon the sumptuous back drop of a tanned, most likely mixed-raced, complexion. Cheryl’s eyes had flicked to her lips as they’d appeared to move, most likely spouting apologies for interrupting, but Cheryl had heard none of the words, focusing instead on the plump bow shape of them and their textured, pink surface.

Dear God she looked like _Toni._

Her body was not as lean, skinnier with less muscular curvature, and her fluffy long hair held only a mottled blend of brown and blond, distinctly lacking in any _other_ colours, but she was strikingly similar and Cheryl simply could not look away.

How could such a fateful meeting have occurred?

What odds could have accurately foretold such a serendipitous opportunity for Cheryl?

Truly, to take any step forward would be to acknowledge in her own mind that her interest in Toni Topaz appeared to stretch beyond the extraction of information to one of genuine _lust_ , but was that such a terrible sacrifice?

Was that such a bad thing to stop her from pursuing such an endeavour?

No, she had thought.

This was a ridiculously fortunate opportunity for her.

And, by God, Cheryl Blossom was going to **_take it_** _._

She had silenced the girl immediately; bending her red mouth to her ear and whispered the number of her suite, inviting her to join her at precisely nine o clock should she wish to have the best night of her sad little life.

Two hours later Cheryl had found herself splayed on her back, upon richly woven sheets, one hand palming roughly at a plump backside and the other tugging at fluffy hair, her tongue lathing sloppily against a tanned neck as the intern earned herself quite the promotion with her fingers between Cheryl’s legs.

The girl had certainly known what she was doing, but Cheryl could not find it within herself to fully _let go_ and reach that much needed climax. Her moans and soft words and murmured praises in Cheryl’s ear had been spoken in too high of a pitch, not low enough or raspy enough or _Toni_ enough. And the pretty brown eyes into which Cheryl had gazed as she pressed their foreheads together, bucking her hips into her hand impatiently, were not _the_ eyes she had wanted to see, not set upon _the_ face she’d wanted to be kissing. Indeed, the woman was similar, but, alas, a cheap imitation was not something for which Cheryl Blossom would ever happily settle.

Cheryl had huffed, pulling the girl away from her mouth by her hair and pushed her head down to rest between her pale legs. She had responded eagerly and immediately, eliciting deep moans from Cheryl’s smudged lips as her mouth worked dutifully.

Cheryl had closed her eyes, hands fisting harshly into her mottled hair and heels digging tightly into her tanned back, and thought of Toni’s soft supple mouth beneath her fingers. The ridged texture of her lips against her skin and imagined that it was _those_ lips toiling away between her legs. She thought of the deep timbre of Toni’s voice and the rich way in which her name slipped from Toni’s lips, imagined hot breath in her ear as _that_ voice moaned into it. She thought of the feel of her soft body against Cheryl’s as she’d pressed them together, the toned hardness of muscular thighs upon which Cheryl had sat and how gorgeous it would be to have them wrapped around her waist, pulling her in. She had dropped her head back on the goose down pillow, her red lips parting in a deep moan and hands pulling tightly at the hair in her palms as her body had stiffened and a strangled utterance of ‘ ** _fuck_** _’_ ripped from her throat as she finally, _finally_ reached her peak.

Sometime later, as the woman was leaving, her hair plastered sweatily to her forehead and her pants scrunched into a ball in her tired arms with her shoes, shirt gaping open at the front, Cheryl had grabbed her by the chin, pale fingers gripping gently into a rounded jaw and brought her in for a deep kiss, tugging at her lip with her perfect teeth.

Cheryl had flicked her eyes between hers, holding her in place and whispered against her mouth,

“You should dye your hair pink.”

Before ushering her out of the door.

 

 

So, as she stood, staring into the hatch door at metal steps and waiting for Otto to reappear from restraining Toni, she decided to push the memory of the impulsive tryst to the back of her mind and focus on the task at hand; getting _information_.

She had waited a whole week to see her and if she thought about that night too much it might steer her toward distraction and she would _not_ risk her future for the sake of wet panties.

She smiled, excitedly impatient, and glanced at the pointed toes of her Louboutin’s.

“What the fuck?”

Her neck snapped straight, the gloved hands in her pockets gripping into fists as she heard Otto’s exclamation.

Had she escaped?

She’d promised _not_ to, she’d said she _wouldn’t_ , how could she feel the same connection between them as Cheryl did and then **_lie_** to her?

What was she going to do without her fucking Serpent to visit?

How would she gain her father’s trust and _love_ and finally touch her pale fingers to that **power** she’d always craved?

How would she ever be able to find someone else with whom she could replicate the palpable energy that they had shared?

She’d been so good to that little street urchin.

Toni had fucking _promised_ her.

“Otto?” She called out, stepping closer to the hatch door, “Otto, tell me what is happening this instant, is she gone?”

There was a torturous pause before he appeared at the bottom of the staircase, brow furrowed and eyes soft.

“No, Miss Blossom. She’s here.” He murmured, glancing to his right at _something_ and swallowing harshly, “I… I don’t know what must have happened. It must have been one of the men that you put in charge of delivering her food.”

Cheryl’s brief respite of relief at the news that she would see Toni’s face again was swiftly replaced by a chill in her veins, icy hot, freezing her in place and burning up the back of her neck.

“What do you mean? What are you _talking_ about- just get out of my way!”

She gathered her long coat from around her legs and stepped quickly down the stairs, pushing past Otto as she turned into the room and looked over at the bed.

Toni was sat upon it, legs crossed as she perched on a pillow at the head of the bed, one arm attached to the frame by a handcuff, hair draped over her face as she stared into her lap.

Cheryl stopped, brows crinkled into a confused frown.

She appeared to be fine.

She turned to Otto who nodded back to Toni and Cheryl returned her gaze just in time to see Toni push her long hair back from her face.

No.

_No_.

The freshly dried strands of pink fluttered back over her petite shoulders, hooked by tanned little fingers to rest behind her ear.

Good _God._

The side of Toni’s face came into view, the skin of her cheek battered and bruised and a glistening cut sliced thinly across her cheekbone. Dried blood had collected around the side of her mouth, clustered around a scabbing lip and her eye appeared swollen and purpling.

Cheryl sucked in a shuddered breath.

She glanced down at the bed, smears of blood strewn across the top sheet in what looked to be attempts to stem the flow of cuts and she swallowed the bile rising from her stomach, her throat tightening.

She had heard of the violence that came along with mob life. She knew of the awful things her father had ordered and had heard many tales and asked many questions of Otto and the numerous other men who delivered terrible punishments to the unfortunates who happened to cross the Blossoms, but she had never _seen_ it. She had never seen the aftermath of a beating or the sheer a volume of blood that resided within a human head. She had never seen such brutality plastered across skin. And even when she had imagined it, she had seen it across the faces of dirty, weathered men, skin thickened by age and hard lives and the damage barely impacting upon their stony features. But not this. Not the soft, delicate curves of a truly magnificent feminine face such as Toni’s.

No.

God no.

She pressed her lips together, her stomach in knots, and swallowed.

“Otto. Fetch a first aid kit.”

She heard thudding steps on metal behind her and the closing of the hatch, a heavy silence settling over the room.

She approached the bed slowly, watching as Toni lifted her head to meet her gaze, the white of one of her eyes completely bloodshot and the staining of a stream of red smudged from her nose to her lip.

“Dear God.” Cheryl whispered, her lips curling in disgust.

_Are those **tears** pricking at your eyes, Cheryl Blossom?_

_Is it the sorrow of seeing such a work of art damaged? Like gazing upon one’s favourite painting slashed to ribbons by an uncaring, unappreciative brigand?_

**_Or is it something else?_ **

**_Something more?_ **

“Who did this, Toni?” She murmured, sitting carefully onto the bed next to Toni’s knee.

Toni audibly swallowed, her shoulders moving in a shrug.

Cheryl nodded.

“What did he look like?”

Toni looked to her with tired eyes, an anger burning behind them.

She blamed Cheryl for this.

“Tall. Big. Dark hair. Accent.” She grunted in reply, lifting a limp hand to motion at the lower half of her bloodied face, “Beard.”

Cheryl’s eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring as she clenched her teeth harshly together.

“ _Jens.”_ She hissed.

Oh he’d hang.

He would _hang_ for this.

She lifted a hand, noting the way Toni’s head twitched away reflexively and swallowed, running her finger gently below the cut to her eye.

“Do you attack him?”

She watched as Toni’s eyes hardened, her lips working themselves into an indignant sneer.

“No, I _did not.”_ She gritted defensively through clenched teeth. “He tried to cop a feel when he was taking off my cuffs and I kicked him in the balls, so he wailed on me.”

Cheryl’s eyes softened.

That _bastard_.

“Did he do anything else to you?” She whispered tensely, watching Toni’s frown deepen.

“You’d have found his dead fucking body down here if he had.”

Cheryl couldn’t help the relieved chuckle that escaped her lips, pushing an errant strand of hair behind Toni’s ear.

_Thank **God**_.

Toni stared back at her, no longer flinching away from her, the spark in her eyes somewhat dulled but still present.

Good.

“You poor kitten.” Cheryl murmured removing her glove to touch the warmth of her thumb to the somehow unblemished skin of Toni’s top lip, stroking it softly, “Did you patch this up yourself?”

Toni nodded gently, her eyes roaming Cheryl’s face.

Cheryl smiled.

“Brave little soldier you are.” She shuffled closer, pulling the glove from her other hand and taking Toni’s head between her palms, leaning across to press a slow kiss to her forehead.

Images of tanned skin pressed to hers and fluffy hair gripping between her fingers and keen, plump lips worshipping between her legs flashed through her head.

None of it had felt as good as this smooth skin beneath her lips, the warmth of it seeping into her, the spark of _connection_ conducting through them, and the smell of soap spritzing from the soft pink hair that tickled her nose.

_Heavenly_.

She sighed, pulling back, mere inches from Toni’s face, her eyes dropping to her lips.

Would they feel better as well?

Like electricity?

Would a kiss to them exceed all of her expectations too?

_God_ she wanted to know.

She inched forward, noting briefly in the back of her mind that Toni’s breath had quickened on her face and she still had not pulled away from Cheryl.

_God she wanted to **know**._

She stopped, their noses a hairsbreadth from each other.

Toni’s eyes were wide, unreadable. Cheryl noted the bruise swelling at the left one and pulled her face away from her quickly.

No.

No it would not be right.

She may be the HBIC and she may revel in other’s downfalls and she may want to take over an industry of violence and _murder_ but to take advantage of an injured woman, chained to a bedframe, the cuts on her face still oozing with blood, it was too much even for Cheryl Blossom.

She heard the hatch opening, and Otto stomping down the stairs, and lowered her hands, noting how Toni shifted slightly, but not _away_ , on the bed next to her.

“Otto, remain outside until I am done here and instruct Jonathon to travel back to the Manor and have Jens taken to _the barn._ Be sure to inform my father that he will no longer be working for us.” She ordered, taking the first aid kit from him and dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

“Oh and Otto,” She continued, a rotten smirk bending her lips as her voice lowered dangerously, “Tell Jonathon to make it **slow**.”

He nodded, leaving as quickly as he came and Cheryl turned, opening the box to retrieve some rubbing alcohol.

“Here,” She murmured, placing her hand on top of Toni’s as she reached out for it, “No, no. Let me.”

Toni’s hand dropped to the bed and Cheryl surveyed the damage closely.

God such a pretty face should _never_ look like this.

“When did this happen, TT?” She murmured, dabbing lightly at her bruised cheeks.

“Yesterday night.”

_Bastard. Made her sleep like this._

**_Bastard._ **

Cheryl let out a regretful sigh, the wind of it tickling lightly to the loose strands of Toni’s hair.

“I apologize. I didn’t want for this to happen to you. I truly did not. I sincerely instructed for no physical harm to befall you.”

Toni’s eyebrows shot up on her face, a sharp breath hissing through her teeth as the action split at a cut.

She was clearly taken aback to have Cheryl Blossom apologising to her. She was, after all, a _prisoner_ here and based on the usual interrogations, that Cheryl had no doubt were similar to those perpetrated by The Serpents, violence such as this would be par for the course.

And yet here Cheryl was, apologising for it and pressing tenderly at Toni’s wounds, the wounds she herself had ordered never to occur, to clean them.

They stared for a moment, Toni’s brain seemingly ticking over a mile a minute behind her pretty eyes before Cheryl tossed the bloodied cloth in her hand to the bed, clearing her throat.

“Perhaps I’ll leave the questioning for today.” She sighed, pressing a pale hand to Toni’s knee and curling it into a reassuring squeeze, “I think you need your rest.”

Toni’s face seemed to soften slightly, her head nodding in grateful agreement.

“I’ll leave this here for you should you need it, and I would offer to provide you with something for the pain but I imagine that you would be unlikely to trust that which I give you.”

She stood, placing the box on the dresser.

“No, I’d trust you, Cheryl.” Came a small croak from beside her.

She turned, a red brow raised in surprise.

Toni swallowed, her slender throat bobbing as those big eyes stared up at her.

“Some aspirin would be good,” She continued, licking at her split lip, “Please?”

Cheryl nodded, eyes flicking to the cut, the air settling shallowly in her chest.

“Of course,” She breathed, “Anything else?”

Toni seemed to deliberate for a moment, her little hand reaching up to brush her hair away from her face.

“A hair tie?” She offered, a slight smirk tilting at her lips.

Cheryl allowed a slight tilt of her own.

“And maybe, if I can, some cigarettes?”

Cheryl nodded, reaching out to play with the sleeve of Toni’s cotton t-shirt.

“I thought that you smoked.” She said quietly, the tilt of her lips sliding into a smile, “I can hear it in your voice, it’s so deep and gravelled.”

They looked at each other then, Cheryl’s eyes frozen to Toni’s as she realized what she had said and Toni appeared to have taken note, offering a Cheryl a small smile.

“Bad habit.” She rasped, sending a thrill through Cheryl’s spine.

Dear God _that_ was the voice she’d longed to hear whispering into her ear in a hotel suite.

She pulled her hand back, straightening her spine.

“Certainly, I’ll allow that.” She clipped, pressing her red lips together and blinking her long lashes as she retreated to the stairs. “I shall bring them by tomorrow, after you have rested. What is your brand?”

Toni paused, dragging her eyes over Cheryl, her features deliberately encrypted much to Cheryl’s chagrin.

A light smile spread across her face as she finally spoke.

“Marlboro.”

Cheryl met her eyes from across the tiny room and envisaged those of the intern as she’d lain above her those few nights ago, faces pushed together and breath mixed into one. Only now it was _those_ eyes, _Toni’s_ eyes, staring back at her, _Toni’s_ body pressing down on her and _Toni’s_ hands pleasuring between her legs. She turned away almost immediately, the room suddenly feeling oppressively warm.

“Very well, until tomorrow then, Toni.”

“Yeah, Cheryl. Until tomorrow.”

 

 

 


	7. No Lodges Left Alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know this has been long awaited and so here it is! I've been crazy busy and this took fucking ages but I love how it turned out. Perhaps you will too. Who knows? Anyway, thanks so much for the continued support! Comment if you want to, let me know what you think. Trigger warning for mentions of blood/violence. Peace out.

 

 

 

Toni didn’t want to admit it, but this was getting to her.

She wouldn’t ever say it aloud. Wouldn’t even allow herself to let it show on her features.

She would only let it out in that hazy, other-worldly 40 seconds of parallel time when one was almost, _almost_ asleep. When her head was bundled beneath itchy sheets, that had seen god **knew** what, and her mind was no longer her own, her emotions no longer restricted by years of toughening up and her inner most thoughts could be analysed so briefly before sleep finally took its victim and said thoughts were washed away once more.

And the last fleeting thought that burned itself behind her eyes as she fluttered into slumber had been the same now for a few nights. Worrying, hopeless, desperate:

**She was _not coping well._**

She’d always been good at holding up under torture.

Pain didn’t scare her.

Pressure was nothing but a stage on which to thrive.

But the loneliness.

She had no idea of what day it was, what _time_ of day it was, how long she’d been here. She’d taken to scraping a tally of estimated days into the wall behind her bed just to have some semblance of a timeline.

To know how long she had left.

If only she could just turn the damn lights off.

Have some normality.

She missed her normality.

Her life.

The partition from her support system, the only people she _had_ to come for her, it was getting to be too much.

_If they even **were** coming for her._

The doubts were creeping in and the fears were ever closer, the notion that perhaps she truly was stuck, here, alone. Like a believer struck by tragedy, the faith and assurance and power they once held in the most high torn from them harshly, surrendering them to the bleak idea that perhaps this was _it_ , perhaps there was nothing else for them, **no one** else for them.

Because she’d seen it before. She’d tried swallowing the memory like a hard pill and swilling it away from her mind but she just couldn’t kick the jabbing realisation that she had seen this before. From time to time, certain Serpent members went missing; dead, dying, kidnapped, trapped, arrested, even simply wandered off tripping on jingle-jangle or fallen into Sweetwater River on a heroine high. And after a while, after the panic and the _novelty_ and the attempts to save them had worn off and the search party had hung up their leather boots, as loyal and united as the Serpents were, if their efforts were not fruitful, they had to stop searching at some point. And they did. They always did. They would congregate in the Wyrm with hanging heads and solemn faces, pledge allegiance to the group, share anecdotes about their fallen comrade, pour out a dram for their lost brother or sister and then resign themselves to the ‘no body’ funeral, and the trailer of the missing remaining revered as a Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

And then life, simply, moved on.

She had seen it.

She had lived it.

She had been one of those individuals who had grown tired of searching the same shore of the same lake for days on end. The same person who, by the sixth day, was merely looking but not seeing, nor even caring at that point if they would find a body, let alone a living person. Perhaps it was a way of handling such common loss. Or perhaps it was merely because to poor people like her, let alone underprivileged members of a violent _gang_ , life was cheap. Where one Tall Boy, or Bernie, or FP once stood and laughed and drank, another would soon take their place.

Life **moved on.**

It made her sick, too sick even to stomach the food that was given to her, which she swallowed in dry lumps and fought to keep from rising back up her oesophagus. But she forced herself, these cuts and bruises would never heal properly without natural sunlight or nutrition.

And the stark realisation of her situation had hit her that night, just as Cheryl had left her.

If she wanted to break out of here she couldn’t rely on the Serpents. She had to do it herself.

_Or the only way you’re leaving here is in a body bag, Toni._

So as she’d heard the engine of Cheryl’s car dissipate into the distance above her head she had waited, ears perked cautiously to the sound of any remaining guards or returning vehicles. When, finally, the silence had seemed as if it would not be broken again, she had retrieved the brown glass bottle of rubbing alcohol that Cheryl had, admittedly rather graciously, left behind for her in the First Aid kit and had scurried to her little bathroom. Raising it high above her head she had shattered it onto the hard concrete floor of her shower, washing the alcohol away and picking out the largest shard, examining its sharp, jagged edges in the dull light of the fluorescent bulbs. Careful not to cut her hands, she had pushed the rest of the debris down the drain, eradicating the evidence, and wrapped a sock around the base of her new weapon to protect her hand when she’d eventually have to plunge it into Cheryl’s porcelain skin.

She’d hidden it securely in a tear in her mattress, ready and available to use when the moment of truth finally came.

She’d have to fight her way out.

That much was clear now.

The schmoozing was working. Remaining useful was working. Convincing Cheryl that she was reciprocating her feelings of intrigue was _working_ and she needed it, needed to increase it to just the right point whereby Cheryl was completely vulnerable and _then…_ she could strike.

Since she’d been grabbed and dragged into this hell those weeks ago she’d felt nothing but hatred, resentment, the opportunity to cut that bitch’s pretty face not merely something she _had_ to do to escape but something she’d _like_ to.

She’d have let that Blossom maple blood flow without hesitation.

And up until yesterday she’d held that belief.

But then Cheryl had visited her, looked at her with perturbingly soft eyes, bestowed upon her an empathy that Toni didn’t think the bitch could possess. She had sat and tended to her wounds and shown genuine physical sickness and regret at that state of Toni’s face.

She’d been so gentle with her.

That _kiss_ had been so gentle. Plump, soft red lips that had pressed a peck to her head, sent tingles down her fucking spine and forced her to fight against fluttering eyes as it had eased her tense muscles and set her heart beating in her chest at the sheer relief to have _human contact_.

Beyond any comprehension Toni had ever held for the Blossom family and their deeds, Cheryl had been kind to her.

She had shown her mercy.

So, despite the hatred she still held for her situation, regardless of how much Cheryl had improved it on her behalf, and despite the fact that she still vowed to do _whatever_ she must to escape this shit, she would return the clemency that she had been shown.

When it came to it, just _once_ , Toni would show Cheryl mercy.

 

The fingers of her free hand twitched as she felt the imaginary pressure of the glass burning through beneath her on the bed.

She watched as Cheryl waltzed across the room in front of her, slipping her coat from her toned arms and her red hair swinging elegantly around her shoulders.

“Have you rested up well, TT?” She sang, turning to glance at her with a concerned frown.

She always left her throat exposed, it seemed. If Toni could get close enough she could use that.

“Yeah, thanks.” She murmured in reply, shifting on the bed, the cool metal of the handcuff catching at her wrist.

“Wonderful.”

Cheryl approached her slowly, placing a water bottle onto the dresser next to the bed and presented to Toni a closed, pale fist, her red mouth pulled into an expectant smile.

“You certainly look brighter than yesterday, Toni.”

Toni watched as Cheryl unfurled her long fingers in front of her, two aspirin appearing behind them rested neatly in her palm.

Toni paused, glancing up a Cheryl’s face.

She’d actually gotten her painkillers.

Yet another promise Cheryl had gone through with.

She swallowed, eyes flicking to her slim, pale neck and imagining the bloody gurgles that would emanate from it as she sliced through it with brown glass.

_Why does the idea make you sick, Toni?_

Cheryl dropped her hand slightly, her brow bending upwards in disappointment.

“Oh, of course.” She murmured, nodding her head, “No, I understand, like I said, I didn’t think you would trust me.”

“No.” Toni protested, leaning forward to take Cheryl’s wrist in her hand. She felt it stiffen beneath her fingers and fought to hide her smirk. “No, Cheryl. Like _I_ said, I do trust you. I’m just surprised that you’re giving them to me before making me answer questions or something.”

She watched as Cheryl pressed her red lips together, her eyes darting over Toni’s face.

“I might be inclined to use the carrot-stick technique with regards to luxuries, Toni.” She said quietly.

 _Luxuries_. Like food and humanity?

Toni almost scoffed.

“But I take no pleasure in watching you suffer. I’m unsure why but the idea bothers me.”  Cheryl continued, her voice dropping to a distracted whisper as she seemed to forget that she was indeed speaking aloud and not in her head.

Not taking any pleasure in watching her suffer?

_Would you take pleasure in watching **her** suffer, Toni?_

**_Truly?_ **

Toni nodded, taking the tablets in her free hand and tossing them into her mouth. She waited for Cheryl to unscrew the water bottle before taking it from her, washing them down her throat easily and wishing away the minutes of painful throbbing behind her eye until they kicked in and began working.

“Thanks.”

Cheryl sent her a satisfied smile.

“You’re welcome.” She offered, placing a toned knee on the bed next to Toni’s and revealing a slim, black hair tie around her bony wrist. “And continuing the apparently unpopular notion that I am capable of doing something _nice_ without ulterior motive,” She drawled, peeling the band onto her hand and reaching for Toni’s hair, “allow me.”

Toni sighed as she felt the strands of her hair sweep back over her shoulder, guided expertly by Cheryl’s careful hands, and felt her fasten it into a low ponytail, the freedom of a clear face easing her mind a little.

No distractions now, Toni.

She glanced at Cheryl’s face.

_Well, maybe one…._

Cheryl had pulled a red lip between her teeth, whether in concentration or pleasure Toni could not be sure, and had fixed her eyes to Toni’s hair with an impressive focus. She played with the strands absently, tugging the hair securely and running her fingers through it, drifting them closer to her face to wrap the loose curls that fell about Toni’s cheeks around them softly.

She stopped, tilting her head to examine Toni’s face with narrowed eyes and curled a loose piece of hair behind her ear, a grin sprouting onto her face as she surveyed her masterpiece.

“There,” she all but breathed with satisfied finality, her bare knee brushing against the cotton of Toni’s sweatpants as she stroked her fingers along the curve of Toni’s jaw. “You look so pretty.”

She let her hands drop, drifting one purposely against the skin of Toni’s arm before sitting on the bed, flicking a curtain of red waves over her shoulder with practiced elegance, exposing her neck.

_Right in the artery, Toni. No games. Just one jab and she’s done for._

**_Can you do it?_ **

“You know, I’ve always enjoyed running my fingers through a beautiful woman’s hair.” Cheryl said wistfully, leaning her weight onto the bed carefully with one hand.

“Beautiful?”

The words had left Toni before her brain could even acknowledge their inception, her tone laden with surprise and dumfounded inelegance.

Cheryl’s eyes flashed for a moment as her faux pas registered, one of her long legs crossing over the other as she sat up straight again.

“But it happens so little now.” Cheryl began quickly, moving the subject swiftly onwards and running her fingers through her hair as she gazed down at her shoes. “I used to do it all the time in my dorm room at school. My friend Veronica Lodge. She had such _gorgeous_ thick, dark hair. It felt like silk. And smelled like grapefruit.” She finished with a hum; her eyes seemingly back in that dorm room, fingers running indulgently through dense black locks and laying lazily on her bed with _Veronica Lodge._

Toni almost wanted to roll her eyes.

 _Of course_ the Blossoms and the Lodges were in cahoots with each other. Those two hideous crime families couldn’t coexist in pure conflict.

There’d be no Lodges left alive.

“You went to school with Veronica Lodge?”

The question, Toni supposed, could be construed as a distraction technique. Certainly, if the Serpents could ever find out about it that’s what she would tell them. She’d asked it out of a necessity to buy herself more time, endear herself to her captor and to extract as much information about the enemy as possible.

But if she was honest with herself, deep down in that lonely cesspit within her that held her fears and truths, she’d asked it out of pure curiosity.

Cheryl Blossom was many things, and intriguing was certainly one of them.

Why wouldn’t Toni take the opportunity to found out how the top 1% of ‘The 1%’ lived?

_Especially when you know how she’ll die. Right, Toni?_

**_Right?_ **

Cheryl turned slowly to look at her, her discomfiture from her previous words now entirely dissipated as she slipped back into the smug, powerful persona of Cheryl Blossom to whom Toni had become so well accustomed.

A smirk stretched her red lips up one side of her face, neat brows arching perfectly into place.

“Oh, I’ve done a lot more than **_that_** with Veronica Lodge.” She inferred smoothly, a pale finger reaching up to sweep a neat line beneath her red lower lip, white teeth sinking into it coyly.

Toni’s face fell lax.

Well _shit_.

So she _was_ right.

It _had_ been lust she’d seen directed at her.

Holy shit.

Cheryl Blossom liked girls.

Toni of course could not be sure if it was just girls, or all genders as was her personal preference, but the specificity of that did not matter.

Either way, the solemn realisation hit Toni with just the same ferocity.

Her and Cheryl fucking Blossom, were more similar than she’d ever realised.

Because, regardless of knowing nothing about this statuesque enigma who sat before her prior to their meeting, Toni knew that such a discovery of one’s sexuality, despite the modern times in which they lived, was not easy.

She knew that feeling.

The unease, the confusion, the desperate desire to know why she didn’t _feel normal_ or why girls felt to her to be _more_ than simply good friends, why they felt just as attractive to her as boys or _anyone_ , and why on earth society had not yet fully embraced this as something to be accepted. Something beautiful. The self-testing and the self-loathing and the frustration and excitement and passion and experimentation and pleasure and eventual self-acceptance that came with the journey of girls liking other girls.

Not to mention how lucky Toni had personally been to have a pseudo-family like the Serpents who accepted her pan-sexuality without question or critique or derision.

Had Cheryl been so fortunate? Could someone who was so beautiful and rich and accomplished, someone who had _everything,_ still be so bitter and fragile and **obsessive** if their parents had been happy about such news?

Toni swallowed thickly, her chest rising and falling slowly.

Oh god.

Oh _god_.

With glum obeisance she surrendered herself to a truth that she had been trying to suppress throughout her entire ordeal. A _weakness_ that would hold her back. Despite her many dalliances with danger and violence and illegality she’d _always_ remained a martyr to her humanity. She remained that young woman who saw more for herself, more for the _world,_ beyond hurting people. And the tiny, indicative morsel of secrecy that she had acquired about Cheryl Blossom knocked gently at the floodgates, its quiet power blasting them to splinters as the waters of Toni Topaz’s morality surged forth.

She glanced at Cheryl’s face, its features calm and waiting, and realised that what she saw was no longer the privileged face of monstrous life-long inequality.

Now, god _help her_ , she saw something different.

She saw Cheryl Blossom for what she was.

A _person_.

Just a young woman, with a past and a childhood and a mind and inner thoughts and feelings and expectations and worries, finding her way through life, doing what **_she had to do_**.

_Just like you, Toni._

**_Just like you._ **

Fuck.

_The only way you’re leaving here is in a body bag._

Toni blinked, her brow creasing as she tried to return her brain to the present.

“You like women?”

Cheryl seemed to be good friends with the question, her eyes rolling delicately in her head at the surprised tone.

“No,” she deadpanned, leaning her arm back to the bed, this time placing her hand between Toni’s crossed legs and flicking her brown eyes over her bruised face as she moved her mouth closer, gaze locked to Toni’s. “I _adore_ women.” She whispered slowly, eyes dropping to Toni’s lips as they seemed to mist over, “I **_crave_** them.”

Toni suppressed a shiver, her breath gone from her body.

This was it.

She was getting closer to that vulnerability she needed in Cheryl.

_Stay useful, Toni._

_It’s a golden opportunity for you._

**_Take it._ **

“Me too.” Toni whispered suddenly in reply, watching Cheryl’s eyebrow rise smoothly on her face, her eyes wide and hopeful for a mere moment.

Quickly, they snapped to defensive anger.

“Don’t mock me, Serpent.” She hissed.

Toni shook her head.

“I like women too, Cheryl. Not exclusively. I like everyone. But I’m _more_ into girls. For as long as I can remember. Honestly. It’s the _lips_ , don’t you think?”

She tried to display the earnest sincerity on her face.

Mainly to humanize herself to the woman who could order her death at any minute but, also, as the mask of her true innate, inner kindness veiled itself neatly over her features, to show Cheryl that even in such abnormal circumstances, even despite the mutual animosity and dissonance of their lives… she _understood_.

The anger eased from Cheryl’s face, slipping smoothly into curious surprise, as if finding a familiar face in the most unlikely of places.

Her brow tinted somewhat, her shoulder rolling uncomfortably under her weight.

“Are you with someone?” Cheryl murmured softly.

 “No.” Toni answered honestly in reply.

Cheryl’s lips twitched at the edges.

“You’ve not yet found ‘ _the one’_ then, TT?”

“No. I guess I haven’t.”

The ease and conspiratorial intimacy of the conversation ran like that of two school friends whispering secretly beneath a blanket at a sleepover.

It was all getting too surreal.

Too much.

Cheryl appeared to pause, her breath ghosting over Toni’s face as she finally spoke, a small smile curling her mouth.

“I hope one day you do, Toni Topaz. For a woman like you it should be rather easy, surely.”

A turbulent nausea gripped at Toni’s stomach.

_Only if you get out of here, Toni._

She swallowed, a surge of guilt now panging at her insides at the thought of playing with the feelings of this woman, despite how awful she’d been led to believe that she was.

“Easy? Right…” Toni murmured, nodding her head, “Probably right in front of me, huh?”

Oh god this was all getting too much.

The play of her words was not lost on Cheryl, it seemed, and her eyes widened as she pulled away from her, running slim fingers through red hair.

Toni cleared her throat, watching as Cheryl crossed the room to search through her coat pockets.

 _This is what you **need**_ _to do, Toni. Don’t back out now._

**_Remain useful._ **

“So are… you and Veronica Lodge, I take it you’re…” She skirted clumsily, her voice rasping into the silence.

Cheryl scoffed, a melodic chuckle tinkling from her.

“God, no.” She laughed, shaking her head, her red hair swaying captivatingly as she did so. “That was nothing but adolescent curiosity and the incomprehensibly intimate connection of female friendship in an all-girl’s boarding school.”

She stood, pale calves twitching with the tension of her heels, her back still facing Toni.

“Ronnie is engaged now. Some man who worked briefly for her father I believe. A pauper by the name of _Andrews_ or some such insignificant Anglo-Saxon derivative. No breeding or lineage. But then The Lodges always were ‘ _New Money_.’” She reasoned idly, this world of names and money completely lost on Toni. “He’s rather handsome by heterosexual standards I suppose, not that I’d know anything about _that._ ”

Well damn.

Cheryl turned to her, one hand behind her back, a tight smile plastered to her red lips.

“Anyway,” She chirped, “now that I have divulged such a succulent multitude of titbits to _you_ , how about you return the favour and tell me more about your gang of misfits and your dirty, hardscrabble deeds, hmm?”

Toni’s shoulders slumped.

“Now, now, Cha-Cha. Keep those spirits up. I will of _course_ make it worth your while.”

Toni watched as Cheryl pulled her hidden hand from behind her back, her pale fingers encompassing the familiar, comforting red-topped box of her favourite vice.

**Marlboro cigarettes.**

Toni felt the very blood in her veins _twitch_.

Thank _god._

Cheryl shook the box, her lips barely managing to squash an excited grin at the hope she seemed to spot in Toni’s eyes.

“That’s right, TT. Just as I promised.” She murmured, stepping over to the bed, “Now, for your first delicious hit of mass-market poison, tell me, where do the Serpents source their guns?”

 

 

 


	8. Route 95 South-Westerly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damnnnnn, ok. I used my day off to write this and it just got away with me and took absolutely fucking hours. It's a long one. I'm pleased with it, however, things are starting to take a bit of a new course here. Some changes are a-happening. Trigger warnings: blood, violence, mention of Nick St. Clair and that situation, also, mention of rape. Now as I promised there is no non-con in this fic. There is no explicit description of anything, nor does any actually rape/non con take place at all, I literally just mention the word 'rape', so please bear that in mind, guys. don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable. I repeat, no actual scenes or descriptions of rape/non-con take place. Just use of the word 'rape'. Ok, so happy reading! send me some comments if you like, I have a lot of ideas for Scuff that I need to get on with and potentially a sequel for that so unless I hear back that people are really invested in this the updates may be a little slower to accommodate other works, but if you want more, let me know in the comments and I'll stick with this moreso. Thank you so much for all the interest so far! be safe, be cool, peace out!

 

 

 

 

Cheryl watched as a plume of white smoke ploughed smoothly through plump lips, billowing gently into the air and laying heavily above their heads like the picture _perfection_ of tempestuous Asperitas clouds, born of such poetic beauty, as if plucked from the pages of Homer’s Iliad itself.

She was mesmerised, eyes glued to the orange filter as it rested neatly against Toni’s mouth, pretty brown eyes rolling back into a bruised head as the noxious fumes filled her little lungs and a gritty, heated groan permeated out from her chest with a rumbling sensuality.

Fucking _fuck_.

She had expected to witness some working class display of nicotine worship, pursed lips puffing quickly and sloppily at the end of a cigarette, forefinger and thumb clasped tightly around it, neck bent lowly and eyes narrowed like some disgusting bar-rat taking a hit outside in the rain by the garbage, flicking the finished stub away with complete disregard in a matter of minutes and turning their head to spit onto the floor.

Dear God had she been wrong.

Toni had finesse. Elegance. Expertise. She held the stick loosely between two fingers, straight and relaxed, and brought it to her lips slowly, languidly, building herself up to the thrill. Her gorgeous lips caressed rather than pinched, her slim cheeks hollowing slightly on the inhale and her mouth puckering enticingly, kissing the air as she turned her head upward, letting it all out with a long, drawn out breath. This was more than feeding an addiction.

This was a truly mastered experience of _pleasure._

It was captivating. _Erotic._ Like the chic women perched primly in cafes on the streets of Paris that she had observed as a girl, puffing daintily at their slim cigarettes, the smoke surrounding them like an air of mystery, their sharp features and painted lips awakening in young Cheryl Blossom a heat that she craved to capture. Did she want to _be_ that woman? Or **_have_** that woman?

She gazed at Toni’s heavy lidded eyes as they fluttered with contentment and reasoned that, right now, it was most certainly the latter of the two.

She wanted to _have_ this Serpent.

This dirty little piece of rough that had fallen so serendipitously into her lap.

She _wanted_ her. Now more than ever. No quick fuck in a hotel room with a lookalike intern could reach the depths that Cheryl needed touching.

Toni let out a deep hum, clearing her throat as she brought the cigarette to her lips again and took a longer, more indulgent draw, letting it sit in her lungs for a moment before nipping at her own sumptuous lip and letting the waves of wafting white seep slowly out through her teeth.

 **Fuck**.

Cheryl’s heart pounded in her ears, draping her eyes over the body in front of her.

She _also_ liked women.

She was here, _all_ for Cheryl, thrown together by fate and she _also_ liked women?

This couldn’t be a coincidence for her. Life had been cruel to Cheryl and she was under no illusion that she would unlikely ever be _truly_ happy for long but **_this_**? Which deity could be wrathful enough to hand her such a beautiful pocket in time only for it all to be an unintended mistake?

_‘Probably right in front of me, huh?’_

She swallowed, eyes blinking.

The single cigarette had been a reward for the divulgence of a key piece of information on the Serpent ambush routes; a concise list of roads for pick up, theft and delivery embarkation jotted neatly into the back of Cheryl’s mind as Toni had willingly parted with the information.

Her father would be _so_ pleased.

“And so what about the drugs?” Cheryl posed, leaning back on her arm to watch Toni open her eyes, her pink hair spreading out against the wall as she leaned her head onto it.

“What _about_ the drugs, Cheryl?” She croaked, leaning across herself with the hand that wasn’t handcuffed to the bedframe to flick some ash onto the ground.

Cheryl smirked.

“What is the source of _those_?” She prodded.

Toni seemed to bide her time, taking another slow hit and letting the smoke, this time, skilfully out through her nose, full lips pressed softly together.

“They come in through the shipping port.” She murmured, glancing at Cheryl and pre-empting her next question with a slow roll of her bright eyes, “I don’t _know_ where, or which, or who or _anything_ other than it’s always on a different day of the week – which to anyone with a brain would probably suggest it was a foreign import on an international boat – and it’s our payment for laundering some big business black market proceeds through the Wyrm. And that’s all I know. I haven’t been on a drug run in years.”

Cheryl listened intently, watching as the paper of Toni’s cigarette burned closer to her tanned fingers.

“And which drugs?”

Toni sighed, rubbing at a healing cut with the heel of her free hand.

“Heroine, jingle-jangle, weed and sometimes cocaine. Sometimes amphetamines too. Like I said, I don’t know, it changes with every shipment and I haven’t dealt with the drugs side of it for a while. I don’t know and I don’t _wanna_ know.”

Cheryl reached out to pluck a string of lint from Toni’s knee, brushing her fingers against the soft fabric briefly and felt Toni’s eyes watching her.

“And how much is your revenue for the sale of these drugs?”

Cheryl looked up to see Toni exhale her smoke in a tired groan, glancing her eyes downward to meet her own.

“Look, Cheryl. The Serpents are small-time, ok? _Especially_ when it comes to drugs. We have barely any territory in this fucking state because, honestly? It’s _your_ family who controls most of it. Your family is the one with the power, not us.”

Cheryl paused for a moment, knowing the words to be true.

She nodded, drawing shapes into the sheet beneath her with her fingers.

“How about the prostitution venture?”

She saw Toni stiffen from the corner of her eye, glancing up at her through long lashes.

Toni’s mouth was tightly pursed, her eyes staring coldly at the wall.

“I don’t know _anything_ about it. And that’s the honest fucking truth. The whole idea makes me sick. Trafficking women for profit, I can’t _stand_ it.” Her eyes seemed to grow distant as she took another draw on her cigarette. “The Serpents never used to be about exploitation like this. It was protection. Unity. Petty theft and parking lot brawls and even hawking low grade drugs was alright but _this_.” Her lips curled into a sneer and Cheryl sat to attention, leaning closer across the bed. “It’s wrong. And I hate it. And it’s one of the reasons I want out.”

Cheryl couldn’t help the gasp that left her lips, her eyes widening.

“You want to leave?” She whispered.

Toni turned her gaze to her, nodding slowly.

“There’s more to life than this, Cheryl. There’s more for me out there than _this._ ”

Her words punctured through to Cheryl’s very being like a stray bullet from a gun.

More than.

More than this.

More than her situation.

More than she was born into.

Those words, those very same thoughts, had swirled agonisingly through Cheryl’s own mind ever since she’d been old enough to be told the kind of business in which her family _really_ dabbled.

She sat stiff with surprise, her red lips parted slightly and felt a shot of understanding beam through from Toni’s eyes as they stared at each other, both far more alike than they could have dreamed.

She was just like her.

This ‘piece of rough’ Serpent was just. like. her.

She’d never in her life felt empathy bestowed upon her from anyone other than JJ. Never felt the comfort of a shared experience, never known the freedom of the words ‘ _I know how you feel.’_

Until now.

Until _her._

She watched dry lips press softly around the cigarette once more and gripped the sheets beneath her hands, the desire to embolden this feeling of pure _reciprocation_ with a kiss almost flooding her entire consciousness.

“There is.” She whispered in confirmed reply, her red hair fluttering lightly about her shoulders as she nodded, “There is, Toni. There is so much more.”

She watched Toni stop, eyes wider than she likely realised, and noted the presence of a hopeful glint replace the animosity that had shone through before.

“And when they run out of women they can traffic, they’ll turn on us. The female members. And I’ll fight til my last breath against it but _when_ the time comes, **not if** _,_ ” Toni whispered shakily, her eyes never leaving Cheryl’s, “There’ll be nothing we can do.”

Sickness flooded Cheryl’s stomach as the grim prognosis settled in her brain and felt her throat constrict with anger, her nostrils flaring as her chest sucked in short breaths.

No.

No that would not happen to Toni.

She wasn’t sure how, for now.

But, she would make _sure of it._

“And what of this ‘murder for hire’ racketeering you mentioned?” She said raggedly, her desperate breaths still fatiguing her lungs with laboured shakes of anger.

Toni shook her head.

“I don’t know anything about that. Like I said, I’ve been fazing myself out for a while now. I haven’t done anything except pass the odd glock or baggie across the bar with a drink. I don’t know anything about the killing.”

She reached up her free fingers to scratch lightly at bruise on her cheek.

“No wait,” She murmured, eyes glancing over the bed as she seemed to wrack her memory, “Wait… there was a name. I don’t know who, or what they are. I don’t even know if they’re affiliated but it was a call for a hit from a … Sinclair?” She screwed her pretty face into a frown, “Yeah, Sinclair. Maybe St. Clair. Something like that. From the City.”

Chery froze, ice settling into her bones as repressed memories curled their claws around the doors of her psyche and threatened to unleash themselves into her mind with startling realism.

“St. Clair.” She repeated, pressing her lips together. “Another crime family. Based in the City. They mainly live and deal abroad on a personal basis.”

Toni nodded along apathetically.

“Well if you know them I guess that information is a little redundant huh?” She grunted, taking in a sharp sniff through her nose. “You go to school with them too, Cheryl?”

Cheryl watched a disinterested chuckle bounce at Toni’s chest from her own mirthless joke and she stared at the wisps of white curling up from the cigarette, her eyes looking but her mind elsewhere.

“No,” She murmured airily, lost in thought, “I knew the son. Nick. Nick St. Clair.” She drew the name out of her mouth slowly, its hideous cadence neither welcome nor spoken from her lips in many years. “In fact,” She paused, a red brow rising on her face, “I was betrothed to him at 18 years old. A deal made by our parents to unite the families. Hideously feudal, I know.”

Toni’s scoff broke her from her reverie.

“Rich people are fucked up.”

Lacking reverence but concisely accurate nonetheless, Cheryl mused.

“Yes. Quite.”

Toni nudged her with her knee, clearly invested in the story from a lack of stimulation in isolation.

“So, what happened? You married or what? I don’t see a ring.”

Cheryl glanced at her and wondered at what point Toni had become so willing to talk, mere weeks ago she had been fiercely laconic, now she dared even to ask _Cheryl_ questions with no meekness or apology.

Anyone else would have condemned themselves by the action but Toni’s nonchalant defiance and curiosity was refreshing to her.

Indeed, Cheryl rather liked it.

“No,” Cheryl answered, glancing down at her hand that bore no presence of wedlock, “No, it was broken off. It was at this juncture that I took it upon myself to inform my family that I am, in fact, gay and would sooner be burned at the stake or exiled from the family forever than marry a man. They repulse me. And Nick St. Clair was particularly _repulsive_.”

Cheryl looked up at the sound of a light chuckle from Toni, her cigarette resting half-smoked between her fingers.

“So I guess he didn’t take it well huh?” She joked.

Cheryl swallowed thickly, sucking in a breath through her nose.

“Indeed he did not. In fact, on the evening of a gala held by the Lodges, I had decided to inform him of the news, and in return he tried to rape me.”

The air settled heavily around them as her words sank into the ether like the cloth of Marlboro smoke in which they sat, silence ringing in her ears.

She saw Toni’s free hand, cradling her beloved cigarette, drop dramatically to the bed, her shoulders slumping laxly in what appeared to be shock.

She closed her eyes, firmly shutting the doors that sheathed the demons of her remembrances of Nick St. Clair and straightened her spine with a sigh.

When she opened her eyes, she hadn’t known what to expect, but given the circumstances, had she seen Toni smirking smugly with pure joy at her horrendous ordeal, she would’ve understood.

Instead, she saw softness. Mercy. Tentative shock.

She saw understanding.

Toni blinked at her, her words having left her, and hesitated for a moment before glancing at her cigarette and raising it to Cheryl in offering.

The action stole Cheryl’s very breath.

The one joy this woman had in this dingy misery. The one thing that brought her respite and satisfaction, the one thing she could have for _herself_ and she was offering to share it with Cheryl Blossom. Her captor. The only token of kindness and empathy that Toni could muster in her bare surroundings was her feeble little cigarette and she done it, in a moment of the most profoundly potent display of humanity that Cheryl had ever seen.

Silently, Cheryl shifted further onto the bed, moving to sit herself next to Toni at the head, their arms leaning warmly against one another as she reached over and accepted Toni’s gift. Placing it to her lips, she sucked in the burning weight of the fumes, letting them ease her muscles and her mind before pressing her head back against the wall behind her and blowing out far more than just smoke from her being.

“So I take it your family whacked him when they found out? Guess he’s not around anymore?” Toni coaxed quietly, her voice rasping tiredly at the edges.

Cheryl turned to glance at her, dotting her eyes over the attractive freckles on her cheeks and yearned to reach forward and kiss them.

“No. I don’t doubt they certainly would have had him killed, _if_ they’d believed me.”

She rolled her eyes, watching Toni’s brows rise up her face.

“Yes, TT. Seriously. My parents were less than understanding to put it mildly. So they paid him off handsomely and he was forced to vow never to come near me again. Mainly, really, to save face in social circles.”

She took another long drag on Toni’s cigarette and sighed as Toni spoke.

“Shit.”

Again, lacking refinery but altogether succinctly correct.

“Yes.” Cheryl replied.

They remained silent for a moment, chests rising and falling in tandem as their bodies pressed gently together. Toni unfurled her crossed legs, straightening them on the bed and relaxed, allowing one to roll itself against Cheryl’s.

Cheryl’s lips pressed together to suppress a smile.

“So, at least they didn’t force you to marry a man. They took your coming out pretty good then huh?”

Cheryl let out a sharp laugh, rolling her eyes.

Did this girl not see the pattern to Cheryl’s existence here? The curse that was the Blossom name. They’d be grateful to possess even so much as the luck of The Kennedys.

“Lord, no, TT.” She chuckled, glancing up at the bare concrete of the ceiling. “My father was entirely disinterested and my mother looked genuinely _ill_. She even tried to ship me off to a convent school for a ‘spiritual retreat’ but when my brother Jason found out it was a guise for conversion therapy he and my beloved Nana put a stop to it before I was moved. Thank goodness.”

Toni was quiet for a moment, turning her head in Cheryl’s peripheral vision to look at her.

“Jesus, Cheryl.”

Yes.

She got it.

They both, it appeared, had seen hardships.

Starkly different in their nature but equally harrowing.

“Unfortunately, of course, Nana Rose is no longer with us to fight my corner on the issue. However, nowadays it is better. My father remains unbothered, in fact he seems to have embraced it. I figure he realized that I’m not important to his life, so why should my sexuality impact anything that he cares about? And my mother, she has also come to terms with it. She’ll undoubtedly always resent me but she’d be like that even if I was straight.”

Cheryl wasn’t sure _why_ she couldn’t shut the fuck up, but she knew she didn’t want to. Never in her life had she been able to relax in such a way, let all the pent up frustrations and issues of her past spring forth to be talked out or even simply _listened to._

It was freeing.

She liked it.

She turned, looking over Toni’s stunned face and shifted closer.

“Apologies. I’ve been taking ownership of this.” She whispered, raising the cigarette in her hand and slowly, her eyes drinking in every definitive detail of Toni’s pretty face, placed it to Toni’s lips.

She felt the gorgeous soft ridges of their pillowed sumptuousness beneath the pads of her pale fingers as she waited for Toni to inhale, brushing them lightly as she lowered her hand once more.

“Of course,” Cheryl murmured gently, eyes flicking to Toni’s mouth as she turned her head slightly to blow the smoke away from them, “given the circumstances you’d be forgiven for thinking that I deserve all that’s happened to me.”

She inched closer, sinking her teeth into her own lip.

A frown twitched at Toni’s brow, her own eyes taking their time to survey the proximity of Cheryl’s face in turn.

“Never, Cheryl.” She rasped deeply, locking their eyes, “I don’t think anyone deserves that.”

God, she could kiss her. She could kiss her right now. All she need do was lean forward but a mere _inch_ and she could connect those lips, feel that **_spark_** that she knew resided between them.

Do it, Cheryl.

_Do it._

The loud ringing of Cheryl’s cell phone from across the room jolted through her and she drew away from Toni, scooting herself daintily from the bed.

Standing uneasily to her feet she glanced down at the finished cigarette stub in her fingers and dropped it to the ground, grinding it into the concrete with the red sole of her shoe before reaching across for her phone.

“Daddy? Now? Yes, certainly. Somewhat inconvenient. The manor? Right away.”

She ended the call, glancing at Toni who was staring down at the handcuff around her wrist with dismal fascination.

Her father wanted to meet with her.

To discuss _business_.

Never in her life had she had a call to business with her father.

She bit her lip, excitement surging through her chest as she turned to retrieve her coat, her heels clipping to the bed.

“I have to go, Toni. I will return tomorrow, is there anything you would like for me to bring you?”

Toni looked up at her with what Cheryl interpreted to be well-concealed disappointment and she reached a pale hand down to tuck some pink hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear.

“No, not that I can think of right now. I’m good.”

Cheryl nodded, lingering her finger on Toni’s cheek as she stepped away.

“I shall send Otto down in a moment to release you as usual.”

Toni nodded.

“Goodbye, Toni. Á demain, ma cherie.”  

“Yeah, Cheryl. Sure. Gesundheit.”

 

 

 

Her father’s study had always been the most succulent of forbidden fruit for Cheryl.

As children, she and Jason were strictly prohibited from entering the room, unless granted permission on special occasions, under threat that should they stray past its heavy oaken doors, they would promptly receive a nightmarish and regrettable visit from ‘ _The Sugar Man.’_

Indeed, for Cheryl, this embargo had continued into adolescence and adulthood, standing by as she watched Jason take his rite of passage into the lavish wooden interior, the central component to all things Blossom Corps.

She’d been _violently_ jealous, as was her usual reaction to most things, and thus as she sat with her back straight, legs sinking comfortably into the plush leather upholstery of the chair beneath her, she surveyed the mahogany shelves lined with old books and the grand desk at which her father had sat her entire life and remembered precisely _why_ she’d been jealous.

There was absolutely no trace of her at all in here.

No mark of her existence whatsoever.

A portrait of Jason adorned one wall, one of her mother on the other. Behind her father’s grand office chair hung a magnificent painting of her dear Nana Rose and Grandpappy Blossom, adorned ornately with gold. Even fucking Uncle _Claudius_ had a small portraiture hanging in the far corner of the room.

But no Cheryl.

Not even so much as a damn school picture.

She may as well not even be in the family as far as this Sepulchre of illegal business displayed.

It made her blood boil.

“Cheryl.” Her father said tersely, a tight smile to his face as he swept into the room, bowing his head briefly to ghost a peck of a kiss to her forehead.

Cheryl took it with a smile, anxious to collect as much affection in this lifetime as she could, however rarely it was bestowed upon her.

He moved to take his seat behind his desk, brushing the front of his _ridiculous_ wig into place as he glanced a look at Otto who stood dutifully behind her at the door.

“It’s nice to see you, daddy. How have you and mommy been-”

“Cheryl we must make this quick. Jason and I have business to attend to.”

Oh.

She nodded, sitting forward on her seat.

“What is this about, daddy?”

Her father cleared his throat, placing his hands out in front of himself.

“The Serpent hostage, Cheryl.”

Her heart clenched, her toes curling in the tight, pointed confines of her shoes.

“The Serpent, daddy?”

“Yes, Cheryl. I trust you were pleased with her? I’ve heard that you have been visiting her almost every day?”

There was a hint of a smirk to his lips that perturbed Cheryl, her intelligent mind treading carefully over his questions.

“Whenever I can, daddy. Yes. That’s true. I’ve been using this opportunity to interrogate her, to gain valuable information for you and the business. I’m so grateful for the chance to prove myself, daddy. I have done exceptionally well.”

Clifford barked a chuckle, flaring a rumble of rage behind Cheryl’s eyes.

They would never take her _seriously_.

“Truly, daddy.” She continued, a petulant insistence to her voice, “I have discovered that The Whyte Wyrm is their legitimate front. And that they have recently begun to deal in prostitution, ‘murder for hire’ racketeering and-”

Clifford held up a hand to silence her, shaking his head.

“Cheryl, we are already well aware of those things.”

Oh.

She cleared her throat, chin jutting into the air.

“Well, daddy. Are you aware that their drug channels rely entirely on international port shipments and that their import and export deliveries travel predominantly along Rout-”

“Route 95 South-Westerly to Baltimore?” He finished for her, his patience running thin with a characteristic futility.

Cheryl’s mouth snapped closed, her eyes searching desperately across his face.

He already _knew_ her intel?

Weeks of questioning and all she had done was humiliate herself?

“Cheryl.” Her father began slowly, that sick smirk twitching at his face as he tried to contain a dry chuckle, “When I gave the message that the girl was there for you to… ‘ _interrogate’._ ” He drawled, quirking a red eyebrow at her, “I did not mean it in the way that you seem to have interpreted.”

_Oh._

Cheryl swallowed, her palms growing sweaty as she rubbed them into the fabric of her skirt.

“Cheryl, darling.” He patronized, “We don’t want to worry your pretty head with such matters of _business_. That’s not your place, remember? You have your seat on the Board and all the hard decisions are made for you so that you can relax and enjoy the finer things in life, without getting too… emotional. As you have been known to do.”

Cheryl’s hands gripped into tight fists as his words began to drown out, her teeth clenching tightly in her head.

He didn’t want her for the business.

He wasn’t extending an opportunity to her as she had thought.

He still saw her as the volatile, unstable little brat that she supposed she was forever damned to be.

She would never be _good enough._

She was never going to be accepted.

She would always be _less than._

_That **bastard**._

She paused for a moment, trying to quell the shaking of her entire body as she prized her jaw open slowly, shallow breaths providing fuel to her words.

“Then what,” She clipped, her tone low and measured, “Did you _mean_ by interrogate?”

Her father seemed to appear somewhat hesitant, shrugging the shoulders of his pricelessly tailored suit as he sat back in his chair.

“This is a delicate conversation for a father to have with his daughter, Cheryl, you must understand that,” he laughed, wrapping one leg over the other as he regarded her with eyes that would never see her for who she truly was. Who she could be.

_More than._

“Cheryl you’ve been so well behaved as of late.” Dear _god_ she was twenty-five years old and they were still treating her as a problem child, “And it is so very rare that we manage to capture a _female_ member of our ‘opposition.’” He paused, the cryptic nature of his words apparently supposed to have revealed something to her at this point.

“Daddy, explain yourself.” She demanded, a frown breaking her face.

“Cheryl. As a reward for your good behaviour I _gifted_ this Serpent girl to you, to do with her _whatever you wished._ ”

Cheryl stared blankly.

Clifford sighed.

“On account of you being of _that persuasion_ , Cheryl. I thought you would like the Serpent girl to… enjoy… in whichever way you desired.”

The realisation of his words hit Cheryl with a frigid smack of nausea straight to her gut and were it not for the fact that she was too stunned to even _breathe_ she would have burned this fucking place to the _ground_ that very **instant** _._

Her father had given Toni to her as nothing more than some sick, twisted, inhuman object _plaything_ for her sexual appetites.

Her own father deemed her capable of _that?_

Non-consensual. Forced. _Rape._

After all she had dealt with in her life?

Her own father.

She knew the Blossoms were twisted but _this_?

Bile fought to climb her throat and she swallowed it harshly, her hands gripping the arms of her chair.

“So you see, darling.” Her father explained carefully, waving his hand through the air with a dismissive nature that cared not for the fact that they were discussing a _human being_ at all.

Good God Cheryl could see so much of herself in him.

And for the first time in her life she **_hated it_**.

“Now that you’ve been having your… fun.” He winced as he continued, the subject matter entirely too uncomfortable for him, “It is time to finish with her now. She’s no pet, Cheryl. She’s a liability. And a costly one at that. It’s time to get rid of her.”

A shudder ran through her back at her father’s words and she sucked a breath in slowly through her tight throat, panic stinging at her eyes and threatening tears.

_Get rid of her?_

“What do you mean, daddy?” She croaked, trying valiantly to appear unaffected.

“Now, now, Cheryl. Don’t have a temper tantrum _please_. We can get you any woman in the _world_ that you desire next. But it’s time to kill the Serpent and have her sent back to them as a message. They have already made _eight_ attempts to find and liberate her, Cheryl and, frankly, the closer they get each time, the more information they have about our defences. Like I said, Cheryl. She’s a liability.”

He looked beyond her then to Otto.

“Otto, bullet to the head and the single maple leaf calling card left on the body. You know what to do. Leave the corpse outside that shithole bar of theirs. The fact that it’s a woman and a young one at that will have more of an effect.”

Oh god.

Oh _god._

 ** _Oh god oh god oh god OH GOD_**.

Fuck.

Shit fuck shit.

Cheryl’s brain was beginning to fog over, the ground swirling upwards toward her eyes.

Bullet to the head.

“Certainly, Mr Blossom, consider it done.”

Leave the _corpse._

“Very well, Otto. Have it done quickly.”

_She’s just like **you** , Cheryl._

“No, wait.” Cheryl called out suddenly, her eyes snapping to her father. “Let me do it. I want to do it. She is _mine_ after all, remember, daddy? My property. She won’t fight back if we restrain her and it’ll be a perfect opportunity for me to make my first kill.”

She felt sick at the words.

“My first kill with my own hands, daddy. Please?”

Her father appeared to debate it inside his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Cheryl, darling. I know you’re a damn good shot, but, it is not a nice thing to witness-”

“Daddy, I can _do_ it. I **want** to do it.” She insisted, setting her back straighter as she tried to convey strength to her words, “Just, let me have one more day with her tomorrow. One more day, daddy. And then I’ll _do it._ ”

Clifford sighed, glancing at his watch with disinterest.

“Yes, yes. Fine. As you wish, Cheryl. Don’t you always get what you want anyway?” He looked up at her, standing from his chair, “But don’t come crying to me when the blood makes you feel faint.”

Cheryl nodded, her neck stiff and burning hot, still barely able to move.

“Thank you, daddy.” She whispered, her lips stretching into a false smile. “I won’t let you down.”


	9. Body Bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo yo yo, I'm baaaaaaaack. This is a mega-chapter. Shit is going down. Hope you like it, let me know! Also, side-note, is it just me or is the Choni fic section fucking lit right now? I'm particularly living for 'Choni Drabbles.' by 'ForASecondThereWedWon.' They haven't asked me to say anything by any means but I just love their writing and think you should check it out if you want to! Happy reading with this, lets a chat in the comments! thanks!  
> trigger warning: mentions of blood/violence.

 

 

 

She was nervous.

Toni could tell.

Toni didn’t like it.

And worse still, even, Toni was nervous _too_.

She didn’t get nervous.

She _didn’t_.

But then she didn’t get captured either.

She didn’t get held hostage.

She didn’t feel empathy towards the horrific childhoods of her enemies.

And she didn’t get confused about the way she felt towards _Blossoms_.

So, in all honesty, nervous was – comparatively - not so bad.

She shifted uncomfortably on the bed, shoulders tugging harshly as _both_ wrists lay encased in handcuffs, attached to the bedframe, this time.

_That’s worrying, Toni._

_Isn’t it?_

She swallowed.

“Cheryl, why are both my hands tied?”

Sharp brown eyes, set atop newly sunken dark circles, snapped their tired attention to her from across the room and Toni noted the sheer pain shining out from behind the spots of bleeding red blood vessels that had reddened the whites.

Cheryl said nothing.

_Nervous._

Pale hands lifted shakily then to wring themselves around red hair, pulling it back distractedly from a beautiful face and Toni tuned into a true sense of _haunting_ crossing over the delicate features.

_Very **worrying**_ **.**

Toni swallowed again, sickly this time, and her mind darted to the glass shard stuffed beneath her in the mattress.

The clunking footsteps of Otto that she had grown so used to came thudding into earshot as he descended the stairs for the second time in the short few minutes or so that they had been here, a wrap of tarpaulin stuffed under his arm.

_Oh dear, Toni._

**_Oh dear_**.

Toni watched, breathing still miraculously under control, as Cheryl frowned, turning her face away as Otto laid the tarp onto the middle of the floor with a chillingly clinical functionality, flattening the corners with his heavy feet.

_The only way you’re leaving here is in a body bag._

“Will you be needing any assistance, Miss Blossom?”

_How are you going to get that glass, Toni?_

Cheryl shook her head, still turned away.

“No, Otto.”

**_You need that glass, Toni._ **

**_How are you going to get it?_ **

“And you have everything that you need, Miss Blossom?”

Cheryl’s spine straightened, her hands seemingly busying themselves with her bag.

“All in here, Otto.”

**_HOW ARE YOU GOING TO GET IT, TONI?_ **

“Very well, Miss Blossom. I will be down to collect it when you are ready.”

Cheryl cleared her throat.

“Yes, Otto.”

Collect what.

_Collect **what**?_

“Don’t worry about the mess, Miss Blossom. I will return to clean it later.”

Toni noted the stiffening of Cheryl’s shoulders, her voice stricken with strain as the words ran quickly from her tongue.

“Otto, you are dismissed, go and wait outside by the car. Leave _now_.”

“Good luck, Miss Blossom.”

Familiar footsteps thudded away once more and the hatch door was sealed shut, the silence of the final two occupants ringing deafly over the hum of the lightbulbs.

“Cheryl?”

_Today’s the day, Toni._

**_Today’s the fucking day you do it._ **

**_You don’t want to die._ **

Toni watched a shuddering breath enter and leave Cheryl slowly, panic settling into her gut as she turned to face her, red hair flipping gently from a pale face as tears worked slow streams down the smooth cheeks.

Fuck.

Toni clenched her teeth, trying desperately to cling to her well-crafted façade.

“Are you ok?” She posed gently, shifting a little closer to the hidden position of the shard beneath her, “You wanna talk about it?”

Cheryl’s eyes softened at her, a sad smile bending at her red lips and she stepped closer, the usual click of her heels silenced by the crinkling of tarp beneath her feet.

_A body bag, Toni._

“I did not get much sleep last night.” Cheryl placated, hands running distractedly over the front of her skirt as she approached, “And I received some bad news from daddy yesterday. That’s all.”

She wiped hurriedly at her cheeks and stopped at the side of the bed.

“However, I would certainly like to talk with you a while. If that’s ok? Not about Serpent business, just…” she looked at her hands, wringing them in front of her with a shrug, “… talk.”

Oh fuck.

Toni nodded, glancing up at Cheryl’s face and clenched her tanned fingers into anxious fists.

Cheryl ushered a hand to the spot next to Toni on the bed, offering her a small smile.

“May I, TT?”

Toni nodded again, alarm bells ringing in her head as she envisaged the discovery of her the glass shard placed directly beneath that same spot.

She watched Cheryl climb elegantly onto the mattress, positioning herself flush against Toni’s side and pressed her lips together.

Since when had Cheryl Blossom _asked permission_ for anything? From anyone? And to a hostage of all people.

Since when had Cheryl _cared_?

“There are many things I wish that you could know about me, Toni.” Cheryl murmured quietly, her head dropping back to the wall as she gazed up at the ceiling, “The first of those being that I have grown rather fond of you in the short time that we have known each other.”

Toni turned her head to look at Cheryl, their shoulders touching, and draped her eyes over the slender bend of her pale neck with a sickening reluctance.

_Deep stab, once._

_You’ve stabbed before, Toni._

_You can do it again._

Cheryl let her head roll to the side, their eyes meeting.

The wind of her sigh blew softly against Toni’s face.

“Me too, Cheryl.” Toni insisted, watching as Cheryl lifted her hand to touch lightly at her lips as she so often seemed to do.

“Really, TT?”  She whispered, a childlike, hopeful vulnerability pooling in her eyes like the tears that threatened to spill once again.

_You don’t want to die, Toni._

Toni nodded, brushing her mouth to the pads of Cheryl’s fingers lightly.

Cheryl hummed, dropping her hand to her lap, and stared her gaze across Toni’s face a while longer.

“What did you want to be when you grew up? When you were a child, TT? What did you dream of?”

Toni raised an eyebrow at the softness of Cheryl’s inquisitive tone and noted the smile spreading onto her red lips.

“For real?”

Cheryl nodded.

What the fuck.

_Stay alive, Toni._

“Ina Garten.”

A lyrical laugh echoed from Cheryl, its airy lightness bouncing against the gray walls of Toni’s cell. Her mouth opened widely into a smile to accommodate it, her eyes crinkling gladly at the edges and the muscles of her stomach undulating with the effort as she seemed to forget herself for a moment, for once free and uninhibited.

Toni watched, eyes absorbed.

It was utterly _beautiful_.

“So, a chef?” Cheryl chuckled lightly, placing a hand to her chest.

Toni shook her head, unable to stop herself from sharing a small smile of her own in these bizarre circumstances, the tarp on the floor forgotten for now.

“No, not really, I’m not interested in cooking anything. I just wanted to be _her_.”

She watched Cheryl laugh again and let out a light snicker herself, the sensation of laughter or even brief _happiness_ feeling foreign to her.

“I would watch her show when I was a kid,” Toni continued, shifting her legs on the bed to turn her body toward Cheryl slightly, “She just had everything I never did. So I wanted to be her.”

Cheryl’s smile faltered a little, her head nodding slowly in understanding and she matched Toni, turning her body.

“How about you?” Toni murmured, acutely aware of the warmth of Cheryl’s thigh pressed against her knee, “What did Cheryl Blossom aspire to become?”

_Why are you interested, Toni?_

_What’s happened to you?_

_She’s a victim to you now?_

She’s been through a lot.

She’s not so different.

**_What would the Serpents think?_ **

The fucking Serpents aren’t _here_.

Cheryl shifted her head against the wall.

“I wanted to be a professional Cellist.”

Toni’s eyes rolled in her head.

A WASP-y, upper class pastime?

What a **shock**.

“So why didn’t you?” Toni pondered, eyebrow arched in challenge.

“How do you know that I didn’t?”

“Well did you?”

“No.”

“So why not?”

Cheryl paused for a moment, a grin stretching at her mouth as she shrugged one shoulder daintily.

“I never bothered to learn how to play cello.”

A laugh broke through Toni’s lips this time, husking a crackled melody from her lungs as she shook her head at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Cheryl Blossom had jokes.

Who’d have thought?

She turned back to Cheryl to see her staring intently, a look of longing peering through her intelligent eyes and a fond smile occupying the entirety of the lower half of her pretty face.

_Toni…_

“You know,” Cheryl breathed, her voice barely above an admiring whisper, “I feel as if we’ve traversed a destiny, TT. As if we’ve challenged fate to its own game. Like the knight playing chess with Death upon the rocks.”

Toni’s brow perked at Cheryl’s reference.

“I love Bergman movies.” She murmured.

Cheryl’s eyes brightened.

“As do I, TT.”

A silent pause befell them, neither daring to ever dream the utterance of the words they secretly wished that they could; _‘We should watch one together, one day.’_

Such perturbing similarities that they both seemed to hold.

“Do you understand my theory?” Cheryl continued, looking over Toni’s face, “We have led such different lives. Such incongruent parallels to each other’s reality. By all forces of nature or time or coincidence we should never have met. And certainly, we should never have found one another to be so extraordinarily connected by unfathomable similarity. To share such understanding on matters that by all rights would never have entered into either of our respective lives were it not for the other.”

Toni listened, enthralled by Cheryl’s charming parlance.

“And yet here we are, TT. Finding ourselves in what can only be described as _exactly that_. And all due to your internment here.” Cheryl paused, her eyes narrowing as she thought of her words carefully, “The cognitive dissonance of your capture, I suppose.”

In another life, Toni would be glad, nay _honoured_ , to listen to that smooth, educated voice talk to her all day. The realization hit her, suddenly, that her façade between them had slipped as soon as Cheryl had taken her seat next to her. She hadn’t given her behaviour a second thought, hadn’t done anything beyond what came naturally to her. This was not an act.

Toni was enjoying it.

_In another life._

“Divided by the futility of cardinal directions, Toni. Can you believe it? North and South. Positions on a map plotting entirely different futures. Not a precisely lateral comparison to be made but it lends itself to the point to mention that we happen to have defied the notion of, ‘ _East is East and West is West and never the twain shall meet.’”_

Toni’s brow tinted in thought.

“Kipling.” She identified.

Cheryl’s eyebrows rose.

“You read poetry?”

Toni nodded.

“I love to read. Mainly true crime novels. But poetry too. Po’s are my favourite.”

Cheryl’s eyes took on an unexpected sadness, a deeply regretful longing that held such weight that it struck Toni to the point of discomfort.

“I so wish that I had always known you.” She whispered.

Toni swallowed, uncomfortable with the profound vulnerability of Cheryl’s words.

She watched as Cheryl turned herself away again, leaning her back against the wall, and felt pale fingers reach behind her, running down the skin of her arm, over the metal of her handcuff to slot themselves through her own tanned fingers and clasp her hand in a gentle squeeze.

She stiffened.

Cheryl Blossom was holding her hand.

_Why don’t you hate it, Toni?_

_Why do you **like it** , Toni?_

**_You don’t want to kill her do you?_ **

**_She’s just like you._ **

Cheryl’s other hand reached up and across her to press against the side of Toni’s head, pulling it down gently to rest against her slim shoulder, pink-tinted curls pressing into red waves as Cheryl leaned her own head down to lay against it.

A pale thumb stroked at her cheek tenderly.

“It doesn’t feel wrong… does it?” Cheryl whispered, barely audible even in the silence of the room, her breath wisping at Toni’s hair. “It should, shouldn’t it? It should at least feel _odd_ but it _doesn’t_. Does it?”

Toni closed her eyes, her head bowing and troughing in time with Cheryl’s gentle breaths, enjoying the contact, enjoying her warm hand softly touched to her face and her rich perfume spritzing at her nose and she imagined. She imagined that she were not locked up in a cell, chained to a bed. She imagined that she had not been born into a world of crime and misfortune and that Cheryl had not been either. She imagined that they had met elsewhere. Perhaps a park or a coffee shop as the cliché often dictated. Perhaps they had caught each other’s eye, and that had been that, and their shared interests and shared struggles and shared fight to gain _something_ , something _more than,_ for their lives would bring them together, to find themselves atop a different bed, in a different time, neither bound to it- nor bound to _anything_ other than the promising journey of one other - resting and breathing and _feeling_ exactly like this.

“No,” Toni rasped honestly in reply, her daydream cracking at the seams as the hard edge of her handcuff dug painful into her arm, “it doesn’t.”

Something had changed.

Something had shifted between them.

No longer was she the Blossom bitch.

“TT, I need you to know.” Cheryl croaked, her voice sounding tearful, “This is not how I wished for it to go. I was not certain of what would happen to begin with but this, this is not what I wanted.”

_In a body bag, Toni._

Toni’s heart clenched.

Cheryl sighed, pressing her hand more firmly into the side of Toni’s face.

“If I could take it all back, Toni. All of this. All that I did, all that I said. Any of it. You being taken, and beaten, you being held in that _awful_ hole, you being held here _at all_. If I could turn back and allow for it never to have happened I _would_. Please believe me that I **would**. Even at the cost of never having met you, I would take it all away because you don’t deserve this. I earnestly believe that. And my God I’m **_sorry._** ’

_No longer was she the Blossom bitch…_

Dear God why was she apologising?

_She didn’t want to **die**_.

Toni waited, eyes clamped closed and tried to steady her breathing.

_How are you going to get that glass, Toni?_

“If you could be anywhere, TT.” Cheryl started up softly, her fingers wriggling between Toni’s in an entirely pleasant way, a way Toni hadn’t felt for a while, “Right now, if you could _go_ anywhere, where would it be? Back to the Serpents I suppose?”

Toni sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head against Cheryl’s shoulder.

“No. I’m ready to say my goodbyes,” If only that sentence didn’t grip at her back with dread, “to my friends and move on from that life. I’m ready to live.” She murmured, hoping her words would get through to Cheryl, her eyes still firmly closed as she cast her mind back to her bleak little trailer, “My Uncle, he used to have a beer mat that he kept on the coffee table in our trailer. Kinda dumb. It was old, all faded and stained and shit, to commemorate all the countries that took part in the 1976 Montreal Olympics. And there was this little picture on it of these fancy ass buildings. And they looked like old school churches, with like a bunch of windows and towers and spires and shit. All sitting pretty by some water. And I remember thinking how different it looked to Riverdale. How you could get lost in there and no one would know, no one would be after you for something. And how nice a sunset would look behind those buildings. And all the photos I could take of it. And on the mat it said that it was Stockholm, in Sweden.” She paused, remembering the hope she had once felt that she would ever leave this town, peering down at that tiny sketch at nine years old. “I would go there.”

Cheryl remained quiet for a moment, her hand stilling against Toni’s face.

“Stockholm is a hauntingly beautiful city.” She mumbled distantly. “You like to take photographs?”

Toni nodded.

“It’s my favourite thing to do.”

**_Was_ ** _you favourite._

She sighed, swallowing the panic.

“What about you, Cheryl? You get to go wherever you want. Where would you go?”

She felt Cheryl lift her head from her own and turned to look at her, their eyes meeting as Cheryl flicked her gaze between Toni’s.

“Honestly?” She whispered, her eyes dropping to Toni’s lips before returning to her eyes again, “Wherever you are, Toni.”

Fuck.

Toni felt the ghost of Cheryl’s breath puffing lightly against her lips and suppressed a light shiver.

“Chery-”

“I want to kiss you.” Cheryl interrupted, her voice a desperate whisper. “I know it’s bold of me. And I’m sorry. But, I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I laid eyes on you, Toni and I can’t, I _can’t_ go another second without knowing if it’s possible.” She leaned forward, her breath beginning to stutter against Toni’s as she stared down at her mouth, “May I? Please?”

Cheryl had her tied to the bed, defenceless in her current state, with the threat of literal _death_ to hold against her should she refuse anything that was asked of her and yet she was asking _permission_.

Something had definitely changed.

Toni blinked, her mind completely blank save for the picture of those sumptuous red lips that had pressed so softly to her forehead days ago, comforting her, and she nodded dumbly, granting her consent without a second’s thought.

Cheryl gasped lightly, the cool breeze of her inhale pinching at Toni’s lips and her pale fingers slid from Toni’s cheek to delve into her hair, curling around the strands. Toni watched her, her eyes hooded and focused as they drank Toni in and she dragged her lower lip teasingly along Toni’s, taking her time, their eyes fluttering closed in tandem.

She felt Cheryl press herself into her side as the hand in her hair pulled her forward and a pair of lips _finally_ encompassed hers, a low moan from Cheryl passing its vibration into Toni’s mouth. Cheryl reached her other hand up to steady Toni’s face, releasing her lips with a slow, deliberate smack and sucked in a deep breath before delving back in for more, tugging a needy pressure to them and gripping her hands tighter.

The softness. The sheer skill. The odd comforting familiarity with which their lips seemed to meet and caress and match each other. It was intoxicating. It was incredible. It was luxurious and indulgent and gentle and opulent and the _most_ disarming experience that Toni had ever had the good fortune to experience. There was no worry, no anxiety, no fear of looking over one’s shoulder, or being called into battle at the drop of a hat. No pressure or hurry or expectation. There was nothing, save for soft, tactile, giving lips that caught tenderly at her own, pressing themselves together over and over, slotting above and below and between with a pace that seemed to stop time itself.

Freedom.

Timeless, peaceful freedom.

It was what Toni had been looking for her whole life.

She felt Cheryl pull back, a warm forehead pressing into her own.

“God you’re so pretty.” Cheryl’s voice husked raggedly into her ears, the gentle prick of teeth nipping at Toni’s lower lip, “Can I touch you?”

Toni took a laboured breath, the memory of red lips still tingling at hers, nodding her head against Cheryl’s and felt the weight of toned legs position themselves either side of her thighs, opening her eyes to see Cheryl sat regally upon her lap.

Toni noted the lustful darkening of Cheryl’s eyes, the obsessive concentration with which she trained them to Toni’s chapped mouth and she closed her eyes again to feel her lower lip being sucked into an eager mouth.

Cheryl moaned deeply, her hands tightening in Toni’s hair as she angled her head upwards.

There was a pause, a brief split second in time as Toni’s lip peeled slowly past Cheryl’s teeth, inching out with a painful stillness until it finally curled free with a pop, a momentary breath passing between them.

And then Cheryl’s lips were on hers, hard and fast, pushing her head back into the wall and sliding her tongue into her mouth, a groan emanating from both of them as Cheryl rolled them together beautifully with a relentless, all consuming hunger, whimpers and grunts firing from her pale throat. Toni felt the hands leave her hair, sliding quickly down her body to grip greedily into her breasts and her eyes rolled back in her head, wet smacks and sharp breaths and eager moans working in time with the kneading of Cheryl’s talented fingers.

Despite her wealth of experience, without doubt, it was the single most passionate moment of Toni’s life.

She felt Cheryl pull away noisily, three more fervent pecks pressed liberally to her lips before a red mouth dragged itself across her cheek, over her jaw and wound its way into the crook of her neck, nearly a full set of teeth digging ravenously into the soft skin and biting down, Cheryl’s groan against her throat only slightly louder than Toni’s.

And then it was gone. Torn away. Cold air stinging against the wet patches on Toni’s neck as she felt Cheryl’s hands drop from her body.

Toni’s eyes flew open.

Cheryl was crying.

Thin rivers of silent tears poured over her face as she gazed at Toni with pained eyes, her mouth smudged and stained and her hands shaking by her sides.

“No,” She whispered, shaking her head, “No it’s not right. You don’t want it. I shouldn’t be doing this to you, I’m so sorry. It’s not right.”

Toni’s swollen mouth parted in shock, the entire kiss taking her foolishly off-guard. She hadn’t given ‘not wanting’ it a single thought. All she _hadn’t_ wanted was for it to _stop_.

“Cheryl-”

“No,” Cheryl sniffed, wiping roughly at her cheeks, clearly disgusted with herself as she ran the back of her hand over her own lips to clean away the guilt, “No I took advantage of you. I never wanted to do that, _never_ , not to anyone, not to _you_ , I’m so sorry, I’m awful. To kiss you like that, for my own pleasure, after all you’ve been through, after all _I’ve_ done to you, with your hands behind your back, it’s _disgusting_ of me-”

_How are you going to get that glass, Toni?_

**_Now’s your chance._ **

**_You have to do it, Toni._ **

**_DO IT._ **

“So untie me.” Toni suddenly whispered, eyes soft and open as she prompted a look from Cheryl.

_Be careful._

“Untie me, Cheryl. Untie my hands.” She purred, swallowing as she ran her tongue across her own lip, pulling Cheryl’s uncertain eyes to it immediately, “Then we’re even. Then I can touch _you._ ”

Cheryl appeared to deliberate for a mere beat of a second before she shot from the bed, making her way to her bag in the corner of the room and pulling a key hastily from the pocket.

**_You have to do it, Toni._ **

**_You don’t want to but you must._ **

Cheryl reached behind her, breathing heavily in her ear as she worked quickly to unlock the handcuffs and Toni let out a sigh of relief as the metal clinked free from her wrists, rolling them languidly as she brought her arms around to rest by her sides.

Before she could react she heard the cuffs clatter to the floor, discarded, and a familiar weight positioned itself back on top of her, long, pale fingers tugging harshly at her pink hair and her face forced upwards to accommodate eager red lips as they devoured her mouth once again.

_Now, Toni._

**_Now’s your chance._ **

Slipping a hand down the back of the bed, Toni’s fingers searched nimbly for the tear in the mattress, her mouth still working hard to keep up with Cheryl’s. She slipped her hand past the torn edges and wrapped her fingers around the covered base of her glass shard, her heart starting to thump loudly in her ears as her face grew hot and her head grew full.

_You’ve never killed before, Toni._

_Can you do it?_

_Can you kill **her?**_

Toni raised her free hand as it shook nervously, trailing it up Cheryl’s firm stomach and past her breasts until it reached her neck, wrapping her fingers around it deftly.

_Now, Toni._

_1… 2… 3…_

With a heave of her body she mustered all the strength that she could, gripping her fingers into Cheryl’s throat and flipping her backward to land harshly onto her back, a strangled whine heaving from Cheryl as she stared up at her, stunned. In the blink of an eye Toni had wrestled Cheryl’s arms beneath her knees, pushing them down into the bed with her weight, pressing on the tendon in her wrist to render them immobile, and clamped a hand over that _perfect_ red stained mouth, forcing her head backwards as she positioned the point of her shard to Cheryl’s jugular.

She felt a gasp from beneath her palm, tears streaming from Cheryl’s eyes to spill down the sides of her face to wet her red hair below.

She could jab it in now. Force it straight in and twist it to the left and cut through that pampered skin like butter. Puncture that artery and end all of this now.

But then she’d be a killer.

And no matter how far from the Serpents that she ran, she could never escape that.

Could she kill?

She moved her eyes to Cheryl’s and saw such raw panic, such emotive terror, and swallowed her guilt.

Could she kill _her?_

Didn’t this woman deserve a chance to escape her demons too?

Just like her?

Weren’t they both allowed a second chance?

_Just once, she would show Cheryl **mercy**._

“Please don’t fight.” Toni whispered, her voice shaking as her muscles strained themselves in her position, held strong by nothing but pure adrenaline, “ _Please_. Just don’t fight or scream. I just wanna get out of here, Cheryl.” She glanced down at the glass as a jagged edge pressed sharply into Cheryl’s white skin, blowing out a sickened breath, “Just let me cuff you up, no struggling, and let me get out of here. _Please._ ”

Cheryl wriggled beneath her, air puffing vainly against the clamp of Toni’s hand as she tried to speak, her eyes wide and pleading.

Toni understood, hesitant as to how to proceed.

“You don’t scream. Ok? If you scream, Cheryl, I swear, I’ll jab this in your throat.”

_No you won’t you fucking liar._

_You don’t want to hurt her._

Cheryl nodded, her body stiff beneath her.

Toni slowly peeled away her hand, Cheryl’s mouth panting rapidly as she sucked in an uneasy breath.

“If you have to kill me, Toni.” She whispered, her voice stuttering with terrified spasms of her lungs, “There is a gun in my purse. Just, please, if you have to… make it quick.”

Toni almost dropped her weapon in shock.

A gun?

Was that for _her_?

Wait…

… Cheryl was willing to _die?_

She frowned, eyes searching Cheryl’s face for any hint of a game.

“I’d understand.” Cheryl murmured tearfully, nodding her head just an inch, “I know I don’t deserve an easy death after what I’ve done. But, before you decide, I need you to know, Toni. I was going to get you out of here. My father, he told me I have to get rid of you. That you have no use to us anymore. He’d gifted you to me as nothing more than a sexual plaything and I was so disgusted by him, so disgusted by the whole business, that I volunteered to ‘ _get rid of you’_ myself so that I could buy you some time.” She swallowed, sniffing wetly and staring her intended truth into Toni’s very soul, “I swear, TT. I’ve been up almost all of the night concocting a means of getting you out of here. The gun is simply a part of that. I was never going to kill you I promise. I _promise_ , Toni. I couldn’t. God, I could _never_. Not now. You’ll see it’s true. If you look in the bag you’ll see that I have a plan to get you out alive. But in order to do that, _I_ too need to be alive. I have a safe place that I can take you to when we leave here, until the heat dies down. I’m sorry you had to go through this. And I’m sorry it had to be this way, but please believe me, TT.”

Toni blinked, her head swirling.

She’ been taken as a sex slave?

A nauseous burst of air shot up her throat.

Oh god.

Oh dear God.

Had she have been stolen as a gift for _anyone_ else other than Cheryl she couldn’t even bear to _think_ what fucking horrific things would have been done to her.

And now they wanted to kill her.

And Cheryl wanted to help her escape?

_How can you believe any of it, Toni?_

“I know,” Cheryl reasoned softly, chewing on her lip, “I know it’s a lot to process but you’re the one with the control here, Toni. And to prove that I’m telling the truth, I want you to take the gun. You hold the gun and you have the control and I _promise_ you, I can get you out of here.”

Jesus Christ what the fuck was going on.

Pouncing quickly from Cheryl  Toni took the chance, holding her shard out straight from her body towards Cheryl’s frozen figure in defence as she sprung across the room, plunging her hand into the purse and wrapping her fingers instantly around the cold metal of a gun.

Oh thank god.

She pulled it out, flicking her eyes rapidly between Cheryl, who had yet to move a muscle, and the pistol in her hand as she skilfully unlocked the magazine, checking that it was indeed loaded, and swallowed, gripping it safely in her hand.

_It’s true, Toni._

_She wanted to save you._

“How can I be sure that you aren’t just saying all of this?” Toni croaked, her chest shaking with sheer shock as a sickness gripped at her stomach, “I don’t want to hurt you, Cheryl. I really _don’t_. And I don’t know why I don’t, but I… I just don’t.”

Cheryl sat up slowly, her hands held up defensively by her sides.

“Please don’t make me hurt you, Cheryl. I just want to get out. I just want us both to get out of here alive, so… so how can I believe you?”

Cheryl nodded at her, her eyes flicking to her purse.

“In there, Toni. There’s a bag of blood. Don’t ask me where I got it, it’s best that you don’t know.” She explained quietly, dark patches from her tears pooling on her shirt, “The only way that you can leave here is if we make it _appear_ as if I’ve killed you. Do you understand?”

_‘All in here, Otto.’_

Toni nodded, dropping the glass shard to the floor and kicking it as far away from Cheryl as she could. She stuck her free hand into the purse and felt around, sure enough retrieving a medical blood pouch, full and sealed.

_She wants to **save you,** Toni._

God her head was so fucked.

“I’ve convinced my daddy to let me ‘kill’ you instead of Otto. This way we can fake it, wrap you up in the tarp and I can whisk you away to a safe place without anyone knowing.” Cheryl murmured, her voice slightly more controlled now.

Toni deliberated for moment, too much information flooding the channels of her synapses.

_Do you really have a choice, Toni?_

_You either kill her or you trust her._

_And we all know you **can’t bring yourself to hurt her.**_

Toni flicked her eyes to the tarp on the ground, her breath still puffing out of her nervously.

_The only way you’re leaving here is in a body bag, Toni…_

_… but that doesn’t mean you have to be **dead.**_

**_Thanks to her, Toni._ **

She took a measured breath, training her eyes to Cheryl who peered back at her with nothing but desperate transparency.

“Please, TT. I can get you out of here. And once you’re safe, keep the gun, and you can kill me then if you have to.” Cheryl whispered, “But let me help you first.”

Toni’s eyes widened, the final cogs of reality clicking into place.

She really did want to help her.

_No longer was she the Blossom bitch._

_She’s just like you._

_Something’s changed._

_You can’t hurt her._

_She’s just like you, Toni._

_You have to trust her._

**God** her head was so **fucked**.

Did she run? Risk the chance that Otto could recapture her and wind up dead in minutes or did she stay? Did she trust Cheryl and trust her plan and trust this _connection_ between them and take that opportunity…  take it and get out alive?

_‘And the cardinal rule would always be…_

_If you need it, and it is provided:_

_You **take it.’** _

Dear Lord, she didn’t want to die.

Toni nodded, the butt of the gun clasped firmly in her grip as she poise her arm, ready to use it.

“Ok,” She breathed, nodding her aching head and locking eyes with Cheryl, “I trust you.”

 

 

 


	10. Dead Weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Another chapter for you all, pretty pivotal shit with regards to the arc of the story so enjoy! Also, little Easter egg for you, in the last chapter I chose Stockholm as the place that Toni dreamed of escaping to because I wanted to use it as a means of showing that her feelings/actions are genuine, NOT the results of 'Stockholm' syndrome. She's not IN Stockholm kinda thing, ie. she doesn't have the syndrome feelings, and the idea that it plays into the whole cognitive dissonance thing that the one place she wishes to go to happens to share the name of the one thing she would never have (eg. Stockholm syndrome). Hope that makes sense, if not, honestly don't even think twice about it, just a bit of trivia. big ole trigger warning for blood in this one. Also, check out my other work Scuff if you haven't already, there's a new update! Anyway, enjoy! let me know what you think.

 

 

 

_‘I trust you.’_

Three words that Cheryl Blossom longed to hear spoken to her, but never had.

Not even from beloved JJ.

Trust.

Such an intimate concept.

She had trusted many people in her life, foolishly perhaps.

Fallen head over heels, whether in infatuation or love it mattered not, and poured into them all elements of hope and reliance that her rigidly fucked up upper-class brain would allow her to share.

Yet no one had ever bestowed within Cheryl enough faith to trust _her._

Except Toni. Perhaps the one person in the world who had the _least_ reason to trust her, was actually extending the olive branch to her and accepting Cheryl for all that she was, and putting her _trust_ in her.

Whether she made it out of this alive or not, Cheryl figured, that small token of humanity was enough to carry her to a peaceful grave in the Blossom cemetery.

She felt blood drip a warm path along her neck, reaching up her fingers to dab at it.

A small cut from the glass stung beneath her touch.

She swallowed, trying desperately not to internalize the very _real_ possibility that Toni had faked her affections just to buy herself the opportunity to threaten Cheryl in such a way and she glanced at Toni’s face, which had beaten itself into a pained frown, as her eyes traced the crimson scratch marring Cheryl’s porcelain skin.

“Sorry.” Toni husked.

Cheryl shook her head dismissively, eyeing the gun resting in Toni’s hand.

She clearly knew how to hold it, how to check the rounds, how to _use_ it most likely. From the way her hand had wrapped around it so familiarly and with such proficiency, it was clear to see that Toni knew how to handle a firearm.

But it looked _wrong_. Foreign. Out of place.

When Cheryl held a gun it suited her. She looked deadly and menacing and _dangerous_.

But Toni, she didn’t look like a killer.

She looked forced into a life whereby the threat of ‘ _kill or be killed’_ had taken its noxious toll.

She looked small and she looked desperate and it shot a pang of genuine hurt through Cheryl’s chest.

She would change that. She _could_ change that. All Cheryl Blossom had ever wanted was power and love and she realized, as she stared into Toni’s sad, panicked eyes, that she **_had_** power. She had the power to make a difference to Toni’s life.

And she would do it.

“We have to make it appear as if you are dead.” She croaked quietly, lifting one of her hands to wipe the remnants of tears from her cheeks, “I’m sure it goes without saying to your expert ears, Toni, but Otto has worked for my father for more than twenty years and killed goodness knows _how_ many people, so it is _vital_ that we accomplish this to a perfect level of illusion or he will find us out and finish you off himself.”

Cheryl swallowed, watching her nod.

A sickness seemed to flash across Toni’s face and Cheryl sighed.

Poor thing.

_She’s just like you, Cheryl._

_She’s just lost._

“May I stand, TT? Please?” She whispered, waiting for Toni’s grunt of approval before getting to her feet and wiping the sweat from her shaking palms onto the front of her skirt.

She cleared her throat.

“The blood, TT.” She motioned to the pouch in Toni’s hand with a nod of her head, “I’m sorry, I know that you’ve been through enough already but it’s going to have to be… on you.”

Toni peered down at it at and turned it in her fingers, a deep breath entering her lungs through her nose.

“It’s human, isn’t it?” She murmured sombrely, flicking her tired eyes to Cheryl’s.

Cheryl frowned, refusing to answer.

“Just try to think of it as _necessary_ ,” She comforted, sniffing her nose lightly, “Now, would you prefer to place it on yourself? Or, perhaps, if you’d like to hold on to the gun, I would be happy to do it for you.”

Toni screwed up her eyes for a second, blinking them open again.

“God,” She sighed, wiping at a cut on her brow with the back of the hand holding the gun. She looked almost at the point of tears. “This is so fucked up.”

Fuck.

“Toni, don’t do this.” Cheryl whispered, taking a careful step closer, “Don’t you give up now. I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and I know that none of this is your fault but if we do this, _when_ we do this, TT. Freedom awaits you on the other side of that door.” She reached out a hand slowly to touch the nape of Toni’s neck and cupped it gently, stroking her thumb across the dark skin. “Do not give up.”

Toni’s eyes met hers and Cheryl’s face grew lax as she saw tears pooling in front of the most open display of vulnerability that anyone had ever allowed her to see.

 _Trust_.

People were always so guarded around her, even those who had falsely professed love. But Toni, she was nothing but pure, real _honesty_.

“I don’t wanna die yet, Cheryl.” She whispered, barely audible even in silence. “I really don’t wanna die.”

Cheryl clenched her jaw to stop herself from welling up and cleared her throat, clasping her hand to Toni’s skin a little tighter.

“I know, TT.” She replied earnestly, tipping her head downwards to get level with Toni’s gaze, “And I promise you, that I simply will not allow it.”

_Power._

Toni’s eyes dropped briefly to her lips for a moment before meeting her stare once more and she nodded, sucking in a shuddered breath.

“Thank you.”

Cheryl offered her a weak smile.

“Now come along, we’re running out of time, TT.”

She took the blood pouch from Toni’s hand and cracked open the valve with nervous fingers, gulping back bile as some spattered onto her wrist.

“Where did you even get that?” Toni murmured from beside her, the fingers of her free hand twitching anxiously.

Cheryl pressed her lips together, stepping over to the bed, careful not to spill it.

“We have a team of doctors who work for us. Clandestinely, of course. Off the books.”

“Mob doctors?”

“Yes, Toni.”

“I didn’t think they really existed.”

Cheryl let out a dry chuckle.

“There’s no end to the debauchery of organised crime, TT. We can’t very well be running to the local hospital every day without raising alarm bells. They do what is necessary for us. And, naturally, they have blood reserves. I acquired this from one of them.”

She glanced behind her to see Toni nodding in understanding, watching her carefully, and Cheryl hesitated for a moment.

“You know I’ve never been squeamish in my life, TT. No amount of blood has ever made me feel uncomfortable. Rather worrying in some respects really. Especially as a child. However,” she turned to look at the bag in her hands, “imagining the notion that this is _your_ blood about to be spilled, rather makes me feel utterly sick to my stomach.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, nor did she honestly expect to get one, before she wrapped her pale fingers around the bag and squeezed a torrent of thick, red, oozing blood onto the pillow beneath.

She took a breath, steadying her stomach.

“Appears as if I shot you in bed, Toni.” She remarked, loosening her wrist with the skilled accuracy of her artistic abilities to flick misted droplets over the head of the bed and up the wall to mimic residual blood spatter, watching as it slid slowly down the concrete. She surveyed her crime scene quickly with intelligent eyes before stepping back to drip some more onto the floor. “And then rolled you off and into the tarp.”

She pulled her hand back, glancing at the bag, now only half full, and turned to Toni.

“If Otto happens to notice the lack of brains spattered around I shall have to inform him that Southside Serpents simply have _none_.” She teased lightly, her messy red mouth curling softly into a smile.

She watched with hopeful eyes as Toni’s quivering lips managed one of their own, a shaky laugh coughing dryly from her chest.

“Now what, Cheryl?”

Cheryl trailed her eyes over Toni’s pretty face, straightening her back.

“Now you really have to trust me, TT. I need you to put down the gun and lie down on the tarp.”

Toni’s arm stiffened around the weapon, her eyes darting unsurely over the blue plastic between them.

“Toni, listen.” Cheryl encouraged, “You’re not relinquishing control. I’m not trying to hurt you. This is to _help_ you, **please** , do as I ask.”

Toni brought a hand to her face, conflicted, and rubbed her fingers to her eyes, grunting as she pressed them harshly into the tender bruise of the left.

She pulled it away suddenly, looking down at the gun with a sigh before bending to place it on the ground.

 _Trust_.

Cheryl watched as she crawled to lay on the tarp, her bruised hands shaking wildly as she placed them down by her sides, and moved to kneel next to her.

She reached out a pale hand and placed it over one of Toni’s to steady it, gripping it reassuringly as she pushed her pink hair from her face.

“Be brave, TT.” She breathed, nodding her head, “Remember not to move at all. Not an inch. Relax every single muscle in your body and stay like that. Even if it’s uncomfortable, be a _dead weight_.”

Toni’s brow twitched, her chin starting to tremble.

“Stay calm.” Cheryl continued, “I shall be there at every step, don’t worry. All you need do is lay still until I give the all clear.” She placed her palm to Toni’s cheek and stroked it softly with her thumb. “Try focusing your breathing from your throat rather than your chest. It may make you feel light headed but it will minimize movement.” She softened her voice and her eyes, watching Toni staring back at her. “Good luck, Toni Topaz. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Cheryl took one last look before pulling back when suddenly two slender, little arms reached up quickly to engulf her in a tight embrace. She relaxed into it, pressing herself down upon Toni’s body and slid her own hands around her frame to squeeze her in return.

She felt so petite, so frail. She had lost weight since being held prisoner here and it made Cheryl screw her eyes shut, feeling a freckled face push its way into the crook of her neck. They held each other for a moment, resting comfortably against one another and Cheryl basked in the feeling of having Toni wrapped around her willingly, peacefully, _freely_.

_Trust._

“Thank you, Cheryl.” A weak voice rasped against her skin.

Cheryl tightened her grip on her, turning her head to press a slow, full kiss to Toni’s cheek, unable to stop the satisfied sigh that left her as the skin pressed warmly back.

She pulled away then, reluctantly, watching as Toni turned onto her side.

“I’m sorry about this, TT. You’ll be able to wash it off soon enough though.”

She took hold of the blood bag once again and emptied it onto the back of Toni’s head, grimacing as it poured out onto the floor.

It looked far too real.

She hated the very sight of it.

“Thank heavens for your lovely thick curls, Toni. It hides the lack of an exit wound beautifully.”

She paused, pulling pink tinted strands over Toni’s face to cover it and reached for the ends of the tarp, rolling her body into it securely and wrapping it around her several times until she truly looked like a dead body.

She stood, checking for any flaws in their façade.

“If you can breathe properly, move your feet.” Cheryl whispered, glancing down at the slight rustled movement from the end of the roll of tarp.

Good.

Showtime.

Moving swiftly to her purse she retrieved a plastic bag and placed the empty blood pouch into it, stashing it deep into one of the pockets, out of sight.

She wiped the few errant remnants of blood from her hands onto the front of her skirt and a little on her knees to make it appear as if she really had rolled a dead, bleeding corpse across the floor and then slid her coat back over her arms, moving to retrieve the gun.

“See you soon, TT.” She promised, lifting the pistol to aim it at the darkening target of blood soaking into the pillow, squeezing the trigger and flinching as the loud bang reverberated around the small room.

Stepping around Toni’s lifeless body carefully she flung back the pillow, her eyes searching out the hole in the mattress that the bullet had torn through on its trajectory. She fished her long fingers into the tear, wrapping the tips around the hard casing, pulling it out quickly, and blowing on it in the palm of her hand as it cooled.

She knew Otto would’ve heard the shot and she took once last glance at the body on the floor, the face completely hidden as a red river trickled out onto the ground, and stashed the bullet into her pocket and the gun into her purse.

A knock rapped at the hatch door before it lifted open.

“Just in time, Otto.” She drawled, running a hand through her hair, “It went perfectly, just as I expected. Now lift what’s left of this Serpent scum into the trunk of my car. Chop chop.”

_Power._

 

 

 

 

“Miss Blossom, I would be happy to dump the body for you. It goes against protocol to allow you to enter the Southside unsupervised. Direct orders from your father.”

Cheryl rolled her eyes, watching as Otto tossed Toni’s body unceremoniously into the trunk of her convertible, supressing a twitch of her eye as it hit the interior with a deep smack.

“Otto, I am a grown woman. More than that, I am your employer. And more than _that_ I am Cheryl _fucking_ Blossom.” She hissed, reaching up a hand to slam the lid of the trunk shut.

_She’s safe now._

_She’s safe._

She stepped closer, pushing a palm into his chest.

“My father may have you believe that I’m emotionally unstable and in all honestly perhaps that is true, but that does _not_ make me feeble minded and it certainly doesn’t make me **too weak** to discard the tiny, hundred pound body of a Serpent _slut_ outside of a damn bar.” She inched closer to his face, gritting her teeth. “I am capable of _unspeakable_ things, Otto. And unbeknownst to you, you have stood guard outside of the door as an unaware witness to many of them.” She smirked smugly, masking the sickness she felt at the implication of her words. “I can end your career or even order your death at the drop of a goddamn hat so take your _protocol_ and run and tell my father that I have killed the little Serpent toy and that the body has been disposed of. And maybe, Otto, Clifford will give you your _balls_ back.”

Otto remained silent and she stood backward, tossing her hair over her shoulder and pulling her lips into a tight smile.

“Regardless, I have my gun. It is the dead of night. And I will be _perfectly fine_. Take the night off why don’t you? Grand bissous to the wife and offspring.”

She stepped around the side of the car, opening her driver door and placing her purse inside.

“Oh and, Otto. Don’t you dare follow me. _That_ is a direct order from **me**. Or you’ll end up with the same fate as _Jens_.”

_Power._

 

 

 

 

Cheryl pulled into a side street in the center of the Northside, shutting off the engine and plunging the car into darkness. She had diligently checked behind her every quarter mile to guarantee that she had not been followed but she flicked her eyes to the rear-view mirror nonetheless, scoping out the vacant street behind her with keen eyes.

They’d done it.

Well, _almost_ done it.

All she had to do was get Toni inside and they’d have _done it_.

 ** _Toni_**.

She opened the door quietly, stepping her heels onto the damp ground beneath her with a hollow click and took one last wary look around at her surroundings before closing the door and making her way swiftly to the trunk.

She could hardly believe it had fucking worked.

She tugged the lid of the trunk open, peering into the dark, only able to make out the faint lines of the tube of tarp in the dim light.

Toni lay completely still.

“Toni,” She whispered, placing a hand to the plastic and nudging it gently, thankful that it was still warm. “Toni, we’re here. You’re safe, now. You can get out.”

There was a deafening pause, the stillness of the night weighing down on her with breathless expectation before the tarp rustled and a grunt sounded out from beneath it.

Cheryl didn't bother to contain her grin, reaching blindly into the trunk to pull at the wrappings and help Toni to free herself, feeling a small, shaking hand press down lightly on her arm.

“Cheryl?” A little voice croaked.

Cheryl bit her lip.

“Yes, TT. It’s me. You’re safe. Are you ok?”

The hand gripped tighter.

“I can’t see anything.”

Cheryl let out a chuckle.

“We’re having to do this under cover of darkness, Toni. Have no fear you’ve not gone blind. Here, careful as you go, let me help you to your feet.”

She felt a weight press down on her arms, tugging at Toni’s waist as she helped her place her little feet to the ground, and reached behind to shut the lid of the trunk softly.

“Where are we?” Toni murmured into the darkness.

“The Northside,” Cheryl explained in hushed tones, reaching out her hand and accidentally connecting it into Toni’s thigh, shuffling along until she touched her hand, wrapping her fingers around it. “The Pembrooke to be exact. I’m taking you to my apartment. When I’m not in the City, or I’m returning to Riverdale this is where I live. Come come, there’s a staff entrance through this alleyway that I can get you into without being seen.”

She tugged on Toni’s arm and felt resistance, frowning at the patch of outlined black as it refused to move.

“You’re taking me to your home?”

Cheryl rolled her eyes, pressing her lips together.

“TT, have no fear. If there is one place my family can be guaranteed not to frequent it’s wherever _I am_. They never come here, save for JJ occasionally, but that won’t be happening anytime soon. Don’t worry you’re perfectly safe.”

She attempted to move again and was stopped by a pull from Toni’s hand.

“No, I didn’t think I wouldn’t be safe. I just, I thought maybe you’d have a safe house or some other barn or hole in the ground or something. Not… your home.”

Cheryl’s eyes softened and she wished to all that was holy that she could make out Toni’s face well enough in the darkness to see the look that was currently on it.

“Look, just follow me, TT.” She whispered, pulling her behind her as she led them to a metal door, sunken back into a brick wall. “They receive deliveries throughout the night and leave this open.”

A particularly ample chested young member of the night staff with the most _delectable_ lips had informed Cheryl of this whilst naked in bed together one spontaneous night six months ago and she had found it to be a very useful morsel of information indeed.

It had remained just as invaluable to her to this very day, it seemed.

She pulled the door open slowly, listening out for any signs of life before pulling Toni in front of her and ushering her inside. With one last look Cheryl stepped in after her, closing the door behind them and squinting against the harsh light of the yellow fluorescent bulbs above them.

They’d fucking **done it**.

She turned to Toni as she stood next to her, gazing around at the corridor and noted the blood had dripped streams across her face.

Oddly, she looked lovely.

“We could have used the main entrance but considering you’re a fresh face and we both happen to have blood on us, I considered it best to sneak you in the back.” Cheryl explained quietly, stepping forward to take Toni’s face in her hands and locking their eyes. “You’re right Toni, this is my home.” She murmured, stroking her thumbs across dark cheek bones, “But allow me to make one thing clear. I have taken you here rather than anywhere else, firstly for security _yes_ , but also,” She curled her lips into a slight smile, biting at the bottom, “because you are no longer a prisoner. Never again shall you be. And no longer shall you be treated as such. So, yes, TT, I have brought you to my home, but, for the time being, _it is **your home too**_ **.** ”

Toni sucked in a heavy breath and Cheryl saw tears spring at her eyes before they were blinked back into oblivion, nodding her head slowly in Cheryl’s hands.

“Thank you, Cheryl. I don’t know even know how to thank you I just-”

Cheryl leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Toni’s forehead and sighed against it, silencing Toni with the action. She lingered her lips for a moment before pulling back to look at her once again.

“Hush, TT.” She soothed, “I want to thank _you_. For trusting me.”

Toni watched her, eyes uncertain and nodded her head again, dried blood crinkling at her brow as she frowned.

Cheryl smiled.

“Now come on, Toni. Let’s get you settled in shall we? Tonight is the beginning of the rest of your life as a free woman.”

_Trust._

**_Power._ **

 

 

 

 


	11. The Human Condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! back again. a little peaceful interlude after all that action with some deeper undertones for your minds to do whatever they like with. Trigger warning for mention of the word rape and mentions of blood. I am travelling away for a few days and so I wont be able to write/update until towards the end of next week, so sit tight and stay tuned for my return on this piece and on the final few chapters of Scuff! thanks so much for all the continued support and comments etc, really kind of you all. hope you like this, let me know what you think and enjoy! peace out, see you again soon!

 

 

 

 

The blood had swirled mistily down the drain, diluted in its path by the cleansing shower water, and sweeping serpentine figures of red, murky strands around the plughole before plunging through the holes and disappearing forever.

Slowly, meandering, enrapturing.

Forever.

Toni’s ‘word de jour’.

She’d washed blood from her body countless times. Watched mesmerised -or sickened, or apathetic, or inconsolably distraught, depending on the reason for which she’d been doused in the stuff – as it travelled from her body and through the rabbit hole of the shower floor on more occasions than she could rightly remember.

Countless times.

Always the same.

Swirling, curling, smoothly flowing rotations of red, going… going… gone.

Indeed, however, there was one thing different about it _this_ time. Even in the starkly new surroundings in which she’d found herself showering. Only one notable, meaningful difference in the way she’d sloughed the bloody coating from her skin with hot water and discarded it into the night.

This time, she vowed, it would be the _last_.

 ** _Forever_**.

The clink of a glass from behind her made her left eye twitch, the soft cashmere of the blanket around her shoulders tickling welcomingly at the nape of her neck.

This time was the **last**.

No more bloodshed.

No more teetering between this world and the next.

No more tempting her own mortality to bring about her end.

No more hovering above the depths of hell, eyes locked to Satan’s himself as she executed dalliances with the underground and the under _world_ , taunting and mocking and spitting in the face of Death as she risked one more stake out, or one more walk home from the Wyrm in the dark, or one more pathetic Ghoulie brawl in a parking lot. No more scars upon her skin, from knives and chains and the devil’s clawed fingers as they crept ever closer, ever stronger, their grip just _willing_ her to slip and fall and cling uselessly at the dusty ground as they wound tightly around her ankles and dragged her down into an eternity’s darkest sleep.

No more; _forever._

Her warning shot had been fired. And its ricochet had caught her right between the eyes.

No more.

Death had missed her this time.

She would be born again.

The glug of pouring liquid filling a glass close behind prickled at her ears.

She’d stepped from the shower of Cheryl’s bathroom, a new layer of skin exposed, a new lease of life unleashed. Naked and wet and determined she had breathed her first breath of freedom, too long spent cooped in the womb of solitude beneath the ground, and professed to herself that this was her new beginning.

**She would be born again.**

Forever.

“I would be happy to make you a cocoa or a hot toddy, if that’s what you would prefer. But, forgive me, I figured somewhat of a stronger medicine was the best antidote for your trauma. Of course I’m unsure of your usual poison so I elected to pour you a dram of the strongest I could find.” Cheryl whispered soothingly into the silence of her living room, the couch cushion to Toni’s right bowing slightly under her weight as she took the seat. A pale knee pressed gently into Toni’s, a generous slug of whiskey sloshing calmly in the grips of a crystal glass sliding slowly into view.

Toni flicked her eyes over the white fingers that held it, clean now of any trace of blood or gunshot residue or _guilt_.

Clean.

Forever.

She nodded slowly, unfurling a hand from beneath her blanket to take the drink.

“Thank you.”

A warm hand pressed itself gently to her back, smoothing slow circles across her shoulders.

“You’re welcome, TT.” Cheryl murmured, her free hand fidgeting its fingers around a glass of her own. “It just so happens to be my drink of choice.”

Toni almost scoffed.

“Mine too.”

The crackle of a grand, marble fireplace crunched restfully opposite and Toni raised the glass to her lips, grateful for the warming burn that lurched its way down her throat.

Her empty stomach protested the strength of the alcohol and her oesophagus twitched its distaste but she held it down stubbornly, sucking in a deep breath through her nose.

Felt good to be _alive._

“Excuse the futile redundancy of the question, Toni, but…” She felt Cheryl inch closer, the hand on her back still roaming soothingly over her spine, “…are you ok?”

Toni pressed her lips together, poking her tongue through to lick the heated whiskey residue from them and turned to look at Cheryl with fresh eyes.

The light of the flames ahead of them flickered ephemeral shadows across her pale face and her hair appeared more vibrant, the red waves gushing softly over her petite shoulders as they lay freshly washed and dried, wafting their garden scent into her space. Her lips were bare, the first time Toni had seen them such a way, that red on Cheryl’s body washed clean to the damnation of the drain much like Toni’s. They looked softer. She knew first-hand how sumptuously buttery they felt to the touch but in the gentle glow of firelight and void of any coverings they looked full and pillowy and inviting.

Toni rubbed her own lips together slowly.

Cheryl’s eyes caught her focus then, wide and concentrated, fixed closely to Toni’s face, ready to take in any change in her features or twist of her mood. They seemed genuinely caring. Genuinely pleased to be gazing upon Toni in their mission to discover her current state of mind.

Undeniably, she reasoned, not for the first time but _this_ time with a fresh mind and fresh eyes and a fresh, new _perspective…_

… Cheryl Blossom was divinely **beautiful**.

_Gods amongst the mortals._

“I don’t know if anything I say can be trusted to make any sense right now,” She rasped tiredly, feeling Cheryl’s hand halt still on her back, pressing warmly into the middle, “But honestly,” Toni blinked, holding Cheryl’s gaze, “Yeah. I really think I am.”

Cheryl’s lips stuttered into the beginnings of a sympathetic smile and she nodded, a relieved breath deflating her chest.

“Good, TT.” She whispered weakly, swallowing as she blinked back tears, “That’s good.”

A pale, shaking hand lifted in front of her face and Toni watched her sip from her glass, joining her in a drink of her own.

“Are you, Cheryl?”

Cheryl stiffened at the question.

It was evidently rare for her to be asked if she were ‘ok’.

“Certainly better now that you’re safe.” She replied diplomatically.

Toni nodded, ignoring the implications of her words and turned to look at the fire. She was conflicted by the closeness of Cheryl’s affection and still very aware of the fact that her freedom from her dungeon did not necessarily mean freedom from a terrible fate.

Anything could happen.

Cheryl need not necessarily be the angelic force she outwardly resembled.

Beauty did not connote intention and after such a trial, such a suffering, Toni knew she would be _foolish_ to assume that she was now home and dry.

She may no longer be the Sadistic Blossom Bitch but into a false sense of security Toni _refused_ to be lulled.

She needed to jar the comfortable stillness back to reality and remain on her guard. She’d shown far too much vulnerability already to Cheryl in the brief hour and a half that she had been free and the worst part of it all was that she had _liked_ it.

It felt far too natural and good.

Something she could do _forever._

“So your dad snatched me to basically be your sex slave for a while?” She rumbled into the quiet of the room, glancing at Cheryl as she puffed out a breath of disgust across Toni’s face.

Her hand dropped from Toni’s back and she fidgeted in her seat, clasping her whiskey glass in her fingers as she looked down into it.

“Yes, Toni.”

Toni sniffed, her lips curling.

Despite her mind’s reluctance to express thanks for the grander consequences of what the Blossoms had done to her, she felt an immense gratitude that such a fate as _that_ had been narrowly avoided.

_Thank you, God._

She paused, flicking her eyes over Cheryl’s face.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

Cheryl’s spine curled gracefully as she sat up straight, the purest look of offended revulsion molesting her features.

“Why didn’t I _rape_ you, you mean?” She hissed quietly, tears pooling in her eyes as her forehead creased further into her frown. “Because it is _disgusting_. Abhorrent. An ordeal of sheer horror. Because despite my cacophony of troubles I am not so twisted as to do _that_. Because I am not a _rapist_.” She spat the word, her voice shaking and low, “And because I know how it feels to be the _prey_ in that particular contest, Toni.”

Toni swallowed, looking away.

“Why didn’t I _do_ it?” Cheryl repeated, her trembling voice now slightly stronger, “Because I didn’t want to. And I never, ever would. It would never so much as cross my mind to inflict such an awful act upon _anyone_ and had I have known that my father, my _family_ , carried out such practices I would have renounced them years ago. I may be no saint, Toni, and I accept the damnation of my evil acts but don’t you _dare_ **ever** ask me such a question again. Don’t you dare ever leave even an _inch_ of doubt in your mind that I would _ever_ touch you or even **think** of you in such a manner. It’s utterly _sickening_.”

Toni saw Cheryl’s whiskey glass disappear unsteadily from her peripheral vision, only to return, moments later, drained completely empty.

Reluctantly, she allowed herself to feeling guilty.

“I’m sorry, Cheryl.”

Cheryl sniffed and Toni turned her head to see her wiping tears from her cheeks.

“No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry my father saw you as a piece of meat and I’m sorry that I allowed myself to become so emotional in my response just now.”

Toni nodded.

“Well forgive me for assuming the worst, Cheryl.” She drawled, “But you were capable of holding me hostage, how could I know your limits?”

Cheryl took a calming breath.

“Good lord, TT. I’m a terror, I accept. But _never **that**_.”

Toni swallowed, sensing a perfect opportunity to test the waters of her trust.

“Well you’re a Blossom, Cheryl. All I’ve ever seen Blossoms do is create chaos and hurt.”

Torrents of silent tears were streaming freely down Cheryl’s face and her jaw sat clenched together tightly.

Toni continued.

“You know how many people your family has ruined? Killed and tortured and extorted and terrorised. Me included, now. Do you know, Cheryl? Do you know what they’re capable of? How many victims they’ve created?”

“Yes of _course_ I know.” Cheryl spat, frowning into the fire. “I’m fucking _one_ of them.”

Toni rolled her eyes.

“One of the family-”

“No.” Cheryl hissed, pained, haunted eyes turning to lock with hers, “One of the _victims_ , Toni.”

Fuck.

Toni absorbed the shock of her words like a punch to the gut and sat back in her seat, her lips parting hopelessly as she struggled to conceive of a response.

Cheryl wiped quickly at her tears with the back of her hand and leaned closer to her.

“Never tell a soldier that they do not know the cost of their war, Toni. Even if they are on the opposing side.”

_She’s just like you, Toni._

_Just like you._

_A victim of her circumstances._

_A more lavish, luxurious life in which to suffer, granted. But suffer, nonetheless, she **has**._

A heavy silence sat between them.

Toni hated it.

“I’m sorry, TT. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I always have been over-emotional. Or so I’ve been told.”

One of Cheryl’s hand’s came to rest on her bent knee and it squeezed gently, rubbing a thumb softly against it.

“I understand that you have no reason to believe me to be anything but my last name. And I know I contributed immensely to your suffering. Please allow me to demonstrate how sorry I am, and perhaps, even redeem myself. Even just a little.”

Toni sighed, staring at the hand on her knee and reminding herself that it was _clean_.

_Born again._

_Just like you, Toni._

“You’ve done some shit, Cheryl.” She murmured, “But you saved my life.”

The hidden weight of the words not spoken, those between the lines, settled upon them both heavily.

_Trust._

Toni drifted her eyes across the expanse of the room, the luxury of it completely alien to her, and laid her eyes upon a hauntingly disturbing painting hanging proudly above the mantel.

Cheryl caught her questioning frown and followed Toni’s eyes to it.

“It’s a Francis Bacon.” She offered quietly, hand still resting comfortably on Toni’s leg. “A nihilistic commentary on the hopelessness of the human condition. I truly understand its motives. Its darkness. Isolation and temptation, stagnation and confliction and self-destruction. All of it. It speaks to me. I _feel_ it.” She paused, eyes narrowed and reflective, “And it’s the real thing too, you know. The original. Daddy procured it for me as a birthday gift. A very, _very_ good forgery that he commissioned upon it’s theft is resting where it _should_ be in a museum in the Netherlands. It’s utterly priceless. Emotive. Beautifully harrowing, don’t you think?”

Toni trailed her eyes across the canvas and grimaced.

“It’s fucked up.”

Cheryl nodded, squeezing her knee.

“So am I, TT.”

Toni met her eyes.

“But I like it.”

Cheryl smiled.

“You like art?” Toni asked, turning her head to survey the rest of the space, peeking around corners into other rooms to note the numerous pieces littering the interior, all no doubt expertly positioned by Cheryl herself.

Cheryl bit her lip.

“Much like women, TT. As you ask me if I simply ‘like’ it, I must inform you that, no. My passion runs far deeper that than. I utterly _adore_ it.”

Toni felt her lips twitch upwards.

The real human _person_ that Toni had reluctantly begun to view Cheryl as was now unfolding beautifully before her eyes into a complex, intriguing detail of well-rounded 3 dimensions.

_Is it possible, Toni, that you wish to learn more?_

_To learn it all?_

_To never **stop** learning… forever?_

“Do you do any of your own work?” She asked, sitting back to look at Cheryl once again.

Cheryl nodded, pulling her hand away and forcing Toni to acknowledge that she missed its presence.

“Yes, I produce my own.”

She reached down to place her empty glass on the wooden floor beneath her and Toni watched her pull her silk robe tighter across her chest.

Wordlessly, Toni raised her arm, opening her blanket and invited Cheryl beneath it with nothing but a glance.

Cheryl stared for a moment before accepting the offer and wound herself into Toni’s side, tugging the blanket around her shoulder to envelope them both.

Toni could smell her clean hair and feel the rich silk of her nightgown against the skin of her arm, enjoying the heat of her body as it passed into her own.

“Perhaps after you have rested, in the morning,” Cheryl murmured, her breath tickling at Toni’s ear as one of Cheryl’s hands slid up her back to press her head to her shoulder, pink hair tickling at white skin. “We can discuss the logistics of your stay here.”

Toni closed her eyes, allowing the soft bend of Cheryl’s neck to cushion her head as the backs of pale fingers stroked softly at her cheek.

Dear god she was exhausted.

“In all honesty, Toni, I hadn’t thought very far beyond simply getting you out of there. But you are welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I have had a guest room made up for you.”

Toni nodded her thanks sleepily.

“I assure you, no harm shall come to you here, Toni. It is within these very walls that you may plan your future.”

A future.

Toni smiled.

“Of course, TT, should you wish to, you are alsofree to leave at any time you wish. As I said before, you’re no prisoner any longer.”

Toni pushed back against the fingers on her cheek and sighed.

“Thank you, Cheryl.”

_Careful, Toni._

_You’re born again._

_A prisoner no longer._

**_Don’t let her capture your heart._ **

 

 

 


	12. Daylight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, I'm back! exhausted from travelling but here's a little chapter for you, some developments happening here so I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think. peace.

 

 

 

It was certainly not the first time that Cheryl Blossom had acquired breakfast for a female, overnight guest.

In fact, as quite the Lothario, she was well adept at the practice.

However, this time, of course, it was different.

This time it mattered if the woman with whom she would be sharing the most important meal of the day actually _liked_ the food she had purchased.

This time she cared to make a good impression.

As if she could make any _worse_ of one.

Toni had arisen much earlier than Cheryl had assumed that a very recently freed and fatigued prisoner would tend to do so, and as she had strutted into the foyer of her apartment, arms laden with paper-bagged delights, she had been met with the sight of Toni, hair ruffled and loose, stretching her arms above her head and bending her stiff spine backward as she’d stepped daintily across to the kitchen barefooted. Cheryl had stopped dead in her tracks, unseen, watching fading pink curls cascading down a slim back and the elegantly, toned curves of her well-defined stomach muscles tugging teasingly below the small gap between her slightly lifted t-shirt and the band of her sweat pants. A deep groaning sigh had left her lips when she’d finally relaxed her arms, rolling her neck on her shoulders as she’d disappeared into the other room and Cheryl had hoped, resolutely and with a dry mouth, that Toni would decide to stay in the safety of her apartment and her companionship.

Indeed, she had decided, she could happily awake to such a sight for the rest of her goddamn life.

 

 

 

“I suppose I should have asked you last night what you’d like to eat for breakfast. My manners seem to have abandoned me.” Cheryl murmured softly into her lifted espresso cup, sipping at it silently as she placed her napkin onto her finished plate.

Toni tugged at a pain au raisin with her teeth and shrugged. She had devoured almost the entirety of Cheryl’s provisions and it made red lips tip upwards into a small smile.

“Pastries are fine. Thank you.” Toni mumbled, wiping the grease from her little fingers into a napkin before taking a gulp from her coffee cup.

Cheryl took a moment to drape her eyes over her and noted with interest that neither of them had ever seen each other, properly, in full daylight.

The pink in her hair, somewhat grown-out since they had first met, was far brighter than Cheryl had realised. Indeed, most things about Toni were no doubt far brighter than she had had the fortune to witness in their luckless circumstances. Her tanned skin appeared _baby_ soft in the morning light flooding through the tall expanse of the kitchen window and Cheryl itched to reach out and stroke a finger over the pretty bulge of her cheek. Her lips were just as gorgeous as they’d always been. Sumptuous and round and kissable. But in the clear light of day they were a lighter hue than Cheryl had seen before and the rosy matte of their colouring reminded her of the depictions of angelic cherubs depicted in the Renaissance art she had studied. Pert and pretty. Perfectly formed. A halo of hair lit around her as it caught the sun’s rays and her tiny figure cut a strikingly soft and utterly beautiful image in the marbled modern decadence of Cheryl’s kitchen. Despite its anachronisms the vision before her, so gorgeous and divinely lovely, would not look out of place as a fresco on the walls of some European Cathedral, Cheryl pondered.

She smiled, biting her lip.

Perhaps not born into Godly stock, but destined to reside in the Heavens nonetheless.

Beauty like that held no other rightful fate.

“I usually just have a cigarette for breakfast anyway. There’s not always a lot in the trailer to eat.” Toni murmured, poking out her tongue to lick her lips neatly clean.

Cheryl raised an eyebrow.

“You’re welcome to help yourself to anything you can find at any time. And anything else you desire I will happily acquire for you.”

_God, I’d do **anything** for you._

Toni looked up at her, her delicious mouth parted to give her thanks when she stopped, her eyes darting over Cheryl’s face.

So focused and consumed by her hunger, it seemed, Toni had not taken a proper moment to realise, much like Cheryl, that the daylight truly exposed a different side to them.

It almost looked like adoration beaming from her pretty eyes.

Cheryl watched as Toni stayed silent, apparently mesmerised by what she saw before her, and she quashed the little rush of hopeful joy that kicked at her chest, tearing her eyes away from Toni’s and glancing down at her plate.

“Are you finished, Toni?”

Toni blinked, incoherent for a moment before resuming her senses once more and blinking defensive neutrality back over her features.

 “Yeah. Thanks.”

She lifted her hand to pick up her plate and Cheryl stood quickly, shaking her head.

“I have staff to do that, don’t you dare.” She admonished softly.

Glancing down at Toni’s retreating hand Cheryl noticed for the first time the roughly blackened bruises encircling the dainty skin of Toni’s wrists, beaten to it by the long periods of restraint.

She frowned, reaching out a pale hand of her own to take Toni’s fingers in hers and pulled her arm closer to inspect the damage. Friction burns cracked sorely over the bruises and she cursed herself for not having seen such horrid injuries sooner.

“You poor thing.” She muttered, more to herself, rubbing her thumb over the healthy skin close by and grimacing as Toni sucked in a pained breath.

Cheryl looked to her face.

“They hurt that badly?”

Toni nodded, looking Cheryl up and down quickly.

Cheryl pressed her lips together, still holding tight to Toni’s hand.

“You hide pain well, TT.”

Toni nodded again.

Something they _didn’t_ have in common.

Cheryl bent her head, turning Toni’s hand and plumping her red lips lightly as she placed a slow, gentle kiss next to the welted skin, pecking a soft line along the inside of Toni’s wrist and down her forearm.

She pulled away, eyes trained to her arm, and rubbed her thumb soothingly against it, her voice a calm whisper.

“If you ever have any discomfort again, Toni. Any pain.” She drew her eyes to Toni’s, “I want you to tell me. And I _will_ make it go away. I promise.”

 _Power_.

Toni was staring at her, wide eyed to the point of _veneration_ , and nodded her head slowly, her little fingers holding firmly to Cheryl’s.

Dear God she was pretty.

She needed to be kissed.

She deserved to be kissed.

To be marked with the worshipping red blemishes of Cheryl’s lips, not cuts and bruises.

She wanted to _kiss_ her.

_Careful, Cheryl . You’re obsessed._

_You know you get hurt when you become obsessed._

**_She doesn’t want you._ **

She swallowed, letting go of Toni’s hand and turning to stride across to a kitchen counter.

“I bought something else for you.” She said quickly, punctuating her words with a clearing of the throat and digging around in one of her bags. She wrapped her fingers around the packaging and pulled it out slowly, steeling herself with a breath before turning to look at Toni again, a smirk twitching at her lips. “Here.”

Returning to the table with a short, clicked rhythm of high heels against tile she placed it down in front of Toni and breathed in deeply to try to catch an inhale of the smell of Toni’s hair.

“A burner phone?” Toni rasped, pulling it deftly from its casing and drifting her eyes upwards to Cheryl’s face.

Cheryl nodded, her smirk growing.

“Yes, TT.” She spread her hands over the rounded back of the chair in front of her and bit her lip. “To spare you the insecurity of the landline or a cell phone, I thought I would procure you one of these.” She gestured to the phone in Toni’s hand and stepped closer to her. “I figured you would be rather desperate to contact the Serpents, or, whomever else. I saw no reason for you to have to wait for that.”

She watched Toni shake her head slowly, pushing back her chair.

“You _want_ me to have outside contact?” She breathed, disbelieving. “You want me to contact the _Serpents_?”

Cheryl nodded.

“But, Cheryl. You _hate_ us.”

Swallowing sourly Cheryl frowned, shifting on her feet.

“Of course you should have outside contact, you’re free now, TT. And, _yes,_ I have a distaste for ramshackle living, agreed. However, my family have done far worse things to yours. Besides,” She softened her voice, glancing down at Toni’s hands, “I certainly don’t hate _you_.”

Toni remained still in the corner of her eye, staring at Cheryl’s face.

“Cheryl, I-”

“Toni, you deserve to be cared for. If there are people in your little gang who can provide even so much as a familiar voice to you, I want you to have that.”

Toni was silent, gazing up at Cheryl from her seat on the chair and Cheryl turned to look at her slowly, noting the vulnerable clarity in her eyes.

 _Trust_.

Cheryl swallowed.

“Also, I feel it only fair to impart some knowledge I acquired from Daddy about your friends.”

Toni’s eyebrows perked upward as she sat forward on her seat.

“They tried to rescue you many times, TT. Many times. In fact, so often that _that_ was partly the reason that Daddy wanted to just get rid of you so swiftly.” She fumbled her red lip between her teeth. “I know how it feels to be rejected and forgotten by those you call ‘family’, Toni, and I know that you’re destined to part yourself from them eventually and achieve _more_ in your life. But, I want you to know that it appears as if _your_ family never forgot **you**.” She reached up to tuck a strand of pink hair behind Toni’s ear and they locked eyes for a moment as Cheryl dragged her thumb slowly over Toni’s lower lip.

She watched, transfixed, as Toni never left her gaze and pressed a soft, slow kiss to the pad of her thumb in return.

Fuck.

Her breath shuddered lightly in her chest, her arm tensing as she fought the desire to grip her fingers into Toni’s slender throat and pull her into a kiss.

“You are wanted, Toni. Don’t forget it.”

_By more than just The Serpents eh, Cheryl?_

In a second Toni was out of her chair and to her feet, making Cheryl flinch as the memories of _last time_ she’d caught her by surprise shot through her mind, when she felt small, toned arms wrapping around her neck tightly, a warm little body pressing into her front.

Toni was hugging her.

For the _second_ time.

And dear Lord did it feel _good_.

Fighting the urge to groan, Cheryl wound her own arms around Toni’s tiny frame and gripped her snugly, tilting her head to allow Toni’s face to bury into her neck. She let the earthy bramble fire smoke of Toni’s hair waft around her, closing her eyes and sighed contentedly as she felt the round swell of Toni’s breasts pressing closely into her body.

_You want this, Cheryl._

**_You’re obsessed._ **

_Try not to think about how she **faked it.**_

“Thank you, Cheryl.”

She felt the words hotly in her ear and she swallowed, opening her eyes as Toni gripped one last tight squeeze to her body before dropping back down from the height of her tip-toes and taking a step back.

“Nonsense, Toni. I’ve told you, there’s no need to keep thanking me. Even a lifetime of hospitality couldn’t make up for what I’ve done.”

Toni’s brow creased into a frown instinctually and Cheryl hoped for a rebuttal that never came as she watched tanned, pretty features school themselves back into a blank face.

She waited a moment before speaking.

“Listen, Cheryl. All I’m going to do is call maybe a couple friends and tell them I’m ok. That I’m safe. I don’t want to go back. Not yet. I don’t think it’s a good idea to run back into the warzone to get exposed so soon after being ‘killed’.”

Cheryl nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Do as you wish, Toni-”

“-No, Cheryl. You’re not hearing me.” Toni insisted, taking a step closer and searching earnestly at Cheryl’s eyes. “That’s all I’m going to tell them. I’m not gonna tell them about you. I’m not gonna tell them where I am. I’m not gonna put you in danger. If this is about trust then I want you to trust me too.”

Cheryl sucked in a soft gasp, eyes widening.

“TT, I-”

Toni held up a hand to shush her.

Cheryl Blossom had never been shushed in her life.

“Cheryl, they’d find you and kill you. Maybe even worse.” She flicked her eyes over Cheryl’s face, “And… I don’t want that.”

Cheryl stood stock still, utterly breathless.

_Trust._

“Cheryl, you saved my life.” Toni said slowly, craning her neck upward to press her lips to the corner of Cheryl’s mouth in a gentle, lingering kiss before pulling away to look at her once more. “I’ll do what I can to protect yours.”

With that, she stepped away, burner phone in hand and defied Cheryl’s earlier request by picking up both of their empty plates and carrying them to the sink.

Cheryl watched, her cheek tingling deliciously with the memory of Toni’s lips and lifted a hand weakly to wave goodbye as Toni exited the room.

I’d do **anything** for you.

_Oh no, Cheryl Blossom._

_She’s got you on a leash hasn’t she?_

_Hasn’t she?_

**_Who’s the fucking prisoner now?_ **

 

 

 


	13. Free As A Bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! back again! things are getting a liiiiiiittle more developed in this chapter, definitely making some big progress and perhaps getting closer to some more... smutty things? Anyway, my word processor was being a bitch today and I really couldn't be bothered to re-calibrate the look of it so if the writing looks different, feel free to interpret that as something deeper if you like haha, but in reality it was not. Anyway, really hope you enjoy this, let me know what you think! thanks again for your continued support!  
> also - trigger warning for blood!
> 
> ps - to those of you who may not have read my other work Scuff or seen on the latest update, i've made a tumblr wholenny.tumblr.com. Literally just made it the other day to keep an eye on my work in the fandom so it's nothing fancy, nor do I intend for it to be, but if you wanted to message me or say anything or follow, go ahead. However, to reiterate what I wrote on the update about this on Scuff, I will not be taking/doing any requests, nor will I be replying to anything asking about updating either of my works, thanks. take it easy, and enjoy!

 

 

 

Toni feels cold.

The bed beneath her is lumpy and painful.

There’s no cover.

She opens her eyes.

She expects to see the ornate ceiling detail of Cheryl’s guest bedroom.

She makes out glaring fluorescent bulbs and dense gray concrete.

Everything is concrete.

Everything is gray.

She can barely see.

Her head feels heavy and misted, she blinks, her neck stiffening as she tries to move it.

She can’t.

She begins to panic.

She doesn’t feel right.

 _This_ doesn’t feel right.

She feels drugged.

Her vision lags in slow motion as she tries to look around.

She tugs her arms to her body to sit but one wrist is halted sharply, caught in the snare of a cold metal handcuff.

She tugs again, harder, willing it free.

It tightens.

She’s back there.

She’s been taken back.

She’s back beneath the ground.

She’s a prisoner again.

She begins to sweat.

Tears want to come.

She lifts her other hand to help free herself and as it sweeps slowly, hazily, across her line of vision, as if through water, she sees red.

Bright red.

Arterial red.

It stains her fingers and palm and runs to a dried end down her forearm like the mouth of a vascular river delta and she turns her hand to study it.

She looks down.

She’s covered in it.

Clothes soaked through to the skin.

The slow shutter of a blink reveals the jagged edge of a kitchen knife lain akimbo on the mattress by her thigh.

It glints menacingly and drips crimson from its sharp tip.

She’s been taken back.

She’s going to die.

She doesn’t want to die.

She’s dying.

She’s bleeding out.

Her head shakes weakly. She tugs fruitlessly at her wrist.

She wants to be held.

She wants to be loved.

She wants a soft voice in her ear to stay with her, to pass her over to the Ferryman as he leads her over the river Styx.

She wants comfort.

She’s wasted her life.

She reverts to futile, despairing panic.

She wants her mother, despite her absence in her life.

Like any child would.

Just to be held.

She wants to be held as she passes over.

She doesn’t want to be alone.

She’s always _hated_ to be alone.

She wrenches her head to the side with all the strength she can muster, kicking her legs as if trapped in quicksand, and she can feel her body tiring.

She blinks, a blurry blot of color forming in the near distance.

It spurts arms and legs like ink in water and she blinks again, the shape of a woman coming into view as it lays splayed on the hard ground.

There’s red hair.

Pale skin.

Blood surrounds her.

It pools beneath her like a Lilli-pad as she floats above it, eyes open and coldly staring upward.

It’s Cheryl.

Toni tries to call her name.

Her jaw is tight and heavy.

She tries again in vain.

Cheryl’s skin is gray, almost blue.

Her throat is slit.

Toni sucks in a thickened breath.

This is not **her** blood.

She is covered in Cheryl’s blood.

Cheryl is dead.

The beautiful woman who risked _everything_ to free her is dead.

She is dead.

Toni never got to know her.

She doesn’t want her to be dead.

She hadn’t wanted Cheryl to die.

She didn’t _deserve_ to die.

She deserved a second chance at life.

She deserved to be forgiven.

Did she kill her?

Had Toni killed her?

Or did the forces that be find them both and punish Cheryl for Toni’s escape?

It’s Toni’s fault.

It is all her fault.

Cheryl is dead.

She racks a sob from her chest wrenchingly.

She opens her mouth with a heaving slowness and tries to scream.

Nothing but silent air leaves her.

She cannot scream.

She tries again, her chest burning.

She’s been taken back.

She’s back and she’s going to die.

She wants to be held.

She tries to scream.

Cheryl is dead.

She cannot scream.

She doesn’t want to be alone.

She hears heavy footsteps approaching.

Cheryl shouldn’t have been alone.

She’s back.

She was just like her.

She’s back.

She never wanted to be alone.

She’s going to die.

She’s _back._

 

 

Toni jolted awake violently, a layer of sweat sticking strands of her hair to her temples as her eyes shot open.

She was shaking, deep staccato pants of sheer terrorised fright spitting from her trembling lungs.

The room was dark, save for a sliver of moonlight floating in through the crack in the curtains.

Curtains.

Moonlight.

 _Window_.

Underground cells did not have windows.

She flicked her eyes frantically around the room and spotted the ceiling she had been longing to see in her nightmare.

Cheryl’s guestroom.

A _nightmare_.

Just a hideous dream, Toni.

Not real.

You’re safe.

You’re not _there_.

You’re exactly where you should be.

She felt a warmth seeping across her back and welcomed it, the frigid starkness of the bed in her head still lingering at her skin.

She expected her shivering limbs to be bouncing at the covers but they were held still, vibrating quickly against a comforted pressure.

A shuddering breath whimpered from her dry lips.

“Shhhh… Come back.”

Toni jumped again, the calm voice in her ear pulling her completely from her hellish dream and she suddenly realised that the warmth at her back and the pressure on her limbs was not some coping mechanism fabricated by her subconscious.

Nor was it the thick weight of the comforter covering her tiny frame.

It was Cheryl.

Cheryl Blossom was holding her. Pulling her in safely, wrapped around her from behind, her long, pale arms enveloped around her chest and a toned leg pressing down gently against her hip to steady her shaking body, her nose nuzzling hair from Toni’s face.

“Come back slowly… that’s it.”

Toni felt the tired words breathed coolly across her damp forehead and blinked, her breathing calming somewhat.

Cheryl Blossom was comforting her.

She was _here_.

In her bed.

Holding her.

She clenched her fists.

Cheryl wasn’t dead.

“Good girl, TT. Come back.”

The soothing whisper of Cheryl’s voice murmured softly into her very muscles, relaxing her into the bed, and into Cheryl’s arms, as gentle lips pressed tenderly against her temple, no doubt coating themselves in salty sweat but seemingly uncaring as they kissed her head twice more, lingering there.

Toni’s panting chest began to loosen around her lungs, as did her clenched fists, only realizing as she released the fingers of one hand that it had been tightly wound around Cheryl’s, a pale thumb stroking softly at her wrist.

Not cuffs, Toni. Not restraints.

Your hands are held simply by _hers_.

She closed her eyes, trying to time her breathing with the slow rhythm of Cheryl’s that she felt wisping softly against her cheek, pressing back into her body gratefully.

Just a dream, Toni.

You’re safe.

 _She’s_ safe.

In… and out.

In… and out.

There you go.

You’re safe.

Her body fell completely lax, a slight sickness from the shock shaking at her gut.

“Cheryl-”

“-I know.” Cheryl cooed empathetically, her voice sleepily and slurred, “I know. Not real.”

Toni felt another sequence of kind kisses patter slowly against her eyebrow and swallowed, squeezing Cheryl’s fingers.

“Not real, darling... I’m here.”

Cheryl’s voice teetered off into a breathy sigh as sleep tried desperately to reclaim her and Toni realized, leaning her head back into Cheryl’s cheek, that she had never felt so safe.

Not throughout her entire ordeal with the Blossoms, granted, but then not even before that.

Not ever in her whole sketchy, mercurial life of crime and seediness had she _ever_ felt so **safe**.

Comforted.

 **_Held_ ** _._

_She wanted to be held._

Whether it was the lasting shockwaves of her terror that had yet to pass or not, she would not dwell on ‘til the morning. For now, she wanted nothing more than to forget any implications and evaluations and just…

…be held.

“Stay with me.” She croaked into the quiet, hearing Cheryl heave a deep breath to push out her exhausted words.

“Always, TT.”

Cheryl’s arms tightened around her.

_You’re exactly where you should be._

 

 

 

Toni pressed her arm against the window frame and turned her head, leaning forward to blow her cigarette smoke outside.

She watched as it billowed against the waxy leaves of a beech tree that stood proudly by, blocking the view of her from the street below, and flicked her thumb against the filter to drop ash onto the sill, whipping it away quickly with her fingers.

She’d awoken alone, to a note on the side table written in neat, privately-educated calligrapher’s handwriting:

_‘Dear Toni, good morning. Breakfast is waiting for you in the kitchen. I am out this evening for drinks with investors, so I shall be home late. Also, I had **this** made for you, so you may come and go as you please. Adieu, C x’_

Resting beneath it was a key to the apartment.

Toni hadn’t known quite how to feel.

Now _she_ was the keeper of the keys.

Despite the very trivial fact that she abhorred sleeping alone, she had wanted to awake to _Cheryl_ in particular.

She brought the stick to her lips and took a drag.

The thought irked her.

She considered it normal, after such a horrendously disorienting night terror, to crave the comfort of company. But the thrilling, all-encompassing, utterly disarming and soul-warmingly _wholesome_ experience of being cradled tightly in Cheryl’s arms had taken her by surprise.

She let out the smoke through pursed lips and swallowed.

It had felt all too natural.

Too good.

Too much like something she’d always craved.

Like something she could get used to.

Something she liked.

She scratched at her healing eye as the yellowing bruise itched and sighed, watching a small bird flutter its landing onto the branch of the tree next to her.

_Free as a bird, Tiny._

As her grandpa always used to say.

**_You are, Toni._ **

**_Thanks to her._ **

Her dream had irked her even more.

She remembered it so vividly. The cold. The bed. The _blood_.

How distraught she had become at seeing Cheryl dead.

How she had mourned, in mere seconds, the loss of a life of a woman who she had once hated.

The bird tweeted at her.

Toni scoffed.

“Yeah I know.” She replied to it, “I know I don’t hate her anymore.”

She shook her head.

Cheryl had held her captive. It was true.

She had, initially, clearly enjoyed the power that that position exuded over someone.

And Toni was only resentful of this because it had been _her_ who had been the prisoner.

But she was not without blame.

She could understand that power trip.

She herself had overseen many a kidnapping, taken part in many interrogations, in the early days even _enjoyed_ watching her enemies fall to pieces in front of them.

She had done far worse.

She had beaten. She had withheld food. She had mocked and belittled and punished.

The thought made her sick.

She hated those days.

She had done far worse to others than Cheryl had done to her.

Cheryl had shielded her from a torrent of God knew _what_ in the form of harassments and assaults. She had provided a blockade from any physical harm. She had had Toni moved, albeit barely, to a more comfortable facility. Done the best that she could. She had kept her safe. Kept her fed. Patched her up after Jens went to town on her face. She had grown closer to her. Attempted to get to know her as a person. **They** had formed a connection. She had reacted _remarkably_ well when confronted with Toni threatening to kill her viciously with a jagged piece of glass. She had even offered to _let_ her kill her, so long as she could set Toni free first. And then, of course, she _had set Toni free_. Concocted a plan, at great personal cost to herself, to save Toni’s life. She had taken her here, to her own home. Welcomed her into it, _given her a **key**_. Told her that she deserved to be cared for. Reassured her that she was safe. Provided her with a burner phone, a few days prior, with which she had been able to communicate with her family.

 

And dear God she had looked so utterly beautiful in the early light of the breakfast table that first morning.

 

The woman was truly beyond definition.

 

Toni took a quick drag on her cigarette and let it out slowly, glancing at the bird.

 

She had _apologised._ Was attempting to atone for her sins.

 

“She didn’t have to do any of that.” Toni said quietly, watching it twitch its little head to look back at her. “I never did any of that for anyone I saw chained to a wall.”

 

The bird tweeted at her again.

 

Toni rolled her eyes.

 

Jesus she was talking to a fucking _bird_.

 

“She’s done so much to risk her own safety for me. I don’t get it.”

 

She stubbed out her cigarette on the outer brick wall and flicked it out of the window, turning back to the bird.

 

“She didn’t need to come in to my room last night and hold me either. She didn’t need to do that. If she’s just in this to get me out, to get me safe, if there’s nothing more, she doesn’t need to do _any_ of this, I don’t **get** it. Every single day I’m here she risks the Serpents finding me and fucking _killing_ her.”

 

The bird chirped.

 

Toni held up a hand.

 

“Sorry for cursing.”

 

Her late grandpa had always hated her cursing.

 

“She kept me prisoner for a while. I know. But dammit she saved my _life_. And it’s more than that. Right? Cos she didn’t just save my life, she saved my _future_. I’m not gonna get stabbed by a Ghoulie or thrown in jail for a few sticks of jingle-jangle or pimped out by the Serpent leaders anymore. I _have_ a future. Because of her. She helped me escape that too.”

 

The bird fluttered its wings.

 

Toni nodded, glancing down at the bruises on her wrists and shivered as she remembered the feel of Cheryl’s lips upon them.

 

Bruises from the restraints.

 

_But you weren’t restrained the **whole** time, Toni. _

_Were you?_

 

Toni stopped.

 

_Down in the basement. Otto would cuff you to the bed when Cheryl arrived but when they left, Toni, you were free to move. Free to look for weaknesses in the lock. Free to try to ram the hatch door with your shoulder. Free to try **anything** to get free._

_But you didn’t._

_You stayed there._

_You waited._

**_To see her again._ **

****

**_Deep down, Toni, she made you feel safe._ **

Toni sucked in a slow breath, her eyes unfocused as she pushed back from the window.

 

Jesus fucking Christ.

 

It was true.

 

 **Fuck**.

The bird cawed loudly, drawing her attention.

“I know.” She conceded, “I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

The captivity would take some time to heal.

They had both been prisoners in some way.

But forgiveness, Toni mused, was far closer on the horizon.

“I feel like I know her. She’s just like me in so many ways. I feel like… we should never have met and yet… we were destined to. Jesus, I’m losing my goddamn mind.” She sighed to the bird as it puffed up its little chest and flittered its wings, singing back to her in reply. She smirked. “You sure that’s not you, gramps?”

 

She watched it fly away, running her fingers through her hair as she closed the window and turned to look at the bed that she and Cheryl had shared last night.

 

_Your **future** , Toni._

 

“Fuck.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Toni had plucked a book from the voluminous shelves that covered the walls of Cheryl’s living room and was stretched out in front of the fire, resting upon what she hoped was a _faux_ fur rug, and reading peacefully into the evening when the sound of keys thumping in the lock of the front door had cut her out of her cocoon.

 

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was only 11:23pm and looked up as she heard the neat clipping of Cheryl’s heels echoing against the wooden hallway floors.

 

Toni shut her book, placing it on the coffee table as she stood to see Cheryl leaning against the door frame, her eyes hooded and her long red hair draping prettily over her shoulder.

 

Good God she was beautiful.

 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you up, TT.” She drawled, her voice raspier than usual, no doubt from hours of schmoozing and the burn of alcohol against her throat, as her long fingers crept around the door frame.

 

Toni swallowed.

 

“I was just reading, time got away with me I guess.” She murmured, shrugging her shoulders and taking a step closer.

 

She watched as Cheryl tore her eyes over her slowly, taking in every detail as she looked Toni up and down, the faded red of her lower lip slipping teasingly between her teeth.

 

Toni shifted on her feet, squaring her shoulders.

 

“Did you have a good eveni-”

 

“Did you mean it?” Cheryl interrupted , her eyes narrowed in dulled concentration as she pushed herself from the door frame.

 

Toni frowned, shaking her head.

 

“What are you talking about, Cheryl?”

 

Cheryl tilted her head, striding over to her slowly, prowling her toned body across to her and stopping mere inches from her face, the smell of bourbon fogging from her mouth. Her eyes were slightly dimmed with inebriation but still sharper than most.

 

Toni couldn’t look away.

 

The scent of Cheryl’s perfume filled her head as she watched her toss red hair over shoulder, brown eyes peering down at her and locking to Toni’s as Cheryl reached up her delicate hands to push her long coat from her own shoulders, letting drop slowly to the floor.

 

Toni followed her eyes to it, noting the tightness of Cheryl’s dress as she peeled her eyes back up to her face.

 

“You’re no fool, Toni Topaz.” Cheryl murmured, poking out her tongue slowly to lick her lips as trailed a red fingernail down Toni’s arm. “I adore that about you. You _notice_ things. I like that.” Cheryl leaned her face down closer, flicking her gaze down to Toni’s lips. “So do I.”

 

Toni felt the heat from the open fire behind her warming her back and smelled the sweet lemon fragrance of Cheryl’s skin and cast her mind back to last night, how easily she’d been comforted by the feel of Cheryl’s arms around her, the soothing murmur of her refined voice in her ear.

 

She noticed Cheryl’s throat bob as she swallowed.

 

“But sometimes, when I meet a particularly… _enchanting_ woman, TT. I become somewhat blinded. _Obsessed_.” She whispered, reaching up to take Toni’s chin in her fingers and tilting it up to face her.

 

Toni felt the gentle wisps of Cheryl’s breath against her lips increasing rapidly as their eyes met and she decided to test the waters of her own empowerment, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip and smirking as Cheryl eyes were drawn to it instantly, darkening in front of her.

 

“You obsessed with me, Cheryl?” She purred, feeling the fingers around her chin begin to tighten.

 

“I might’ve fucked a pretty little thing in the city who looked just like you…” Cheryl breathed, sliding her fingers down to grip at the sides of Toni’s jaw firmly, tugging her closer.

 

Toni could see the desperation in her eyes, see Cheryl pouring every _ounce_ of her willpower into holding herself back.

 

She could bring this gorgeous, powerful, god-like woman to her knees and Cheryl could do the very same to her. Such a delicate balance of power was intoxicating, stimulating, _arousing_.

 

She’d never experience passion like this before. Potency like this.

 

For her, flirting and attraction and sex had all come in the form of worn-out trailer mattresses and parking lot corners and quickies in the bathroom at the Wyrm.

 

This was pure palpability.

 

Seduction.

 

Connection.

 

“I want to know if you _meant_ it, TT.” Cheryl whispered, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tightened her fingers and Toni felt a flush heat her face as the sensation shot a thrill through her, “When you kissed me. When you touched me. Brushed up against me and listened to my woes, Toni. Tell me the truth…” She paused, her eyes looking to Toni’s lips, “…did you mean it?”

 

Toni paused, her answer ready at her lips but her mind wanting just _a few moments more_ of this energy between them.

 

“At first, Cheryl.” Toni rasped, deepening her voice and flexing with pride as she watched Cheryl’s breath hitch, “… at first I _hated_ you.” Cheryl’s hand gripped to her tighter and Toni fought a moan, leaning up closer to her face. She would give as good as she fucking got. “But now… I see you differently. I **_see_** you, Cheryl Blossom. I get you. And yes…” She tugged her lips into a smirk and reached her own hand up to press into Cheryl’s chest, “… now, I _mean_ it.”

 

She watched as Cheryl’s eyes widened, almost a childlike hopefulness flashing over them, a small smile growing at the corners of her mouth.

 

There was something else in Cheryl’s eyes, she noticed curiously. Something she’d seen before but could not place. Something powerful.

 

Something _too much_.

 

It hit her like a fist to the face.

 

Toni let out a deep breath, nodding as she took a step back and dropped her hand from Cheryl’s chest.

 

She was no longer _restrained_.

 

Cheryl’s eyes softened, appearing to sober slightly as she straightened her back, her own hand releasing Toni’s face and relaxing next to her side.

 

Toni blinked.

 

“Would you mind… Cheryl… if I stayed with you tonight.” She murmured, clenching her jaw, “After last night I-”

 

“I heard you.” Cheryl interrupted, her face the picture of understanding. “I heard you from my bedroom. I hadn’t wanted to mention it, I know how proud you are.” She smiled slightly, “ But, I’ve known nightmares, Toni. I’ve known the hell of nightmares induced by The Blossom family and my heart broke, TT. It simply broke for you. And to know that it was somewhat my fault I-”

 

Toni pressed her lips together, her fingers fidgeting by her thighs.

 

_No longer the Blossom bitch, Toni._

 

A soft hand reached out to wrap around Toni’s and she felt the safe comfort wash over her once more, the tension in her shoulders loosening instantly.

 

“Of course you can stay with me, TT. Always.

 

_You’re **exactly** where you need to be._

 


	14. No Lipstick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wassup, muthafuckas. Listen, I know I've made you wait. But life has been awesome and busy as fuck. And whilst I appreciate the sentiment behind comments like 'You're back!', I haven't actually gone anywhere and also, same rules apply as they always have: I write/upload when I can. But I get it, y'all. I do. Anyway! Here's this, hope it kills you and makes you feel. Thanks so much for the continued support and interest though guys, honestly so amazing to see, I'm so fucking grateful.
> 
> PS - look out for the final chapter of Scuff coming sometime, if any of you are still reading that shit.
> 
> Peace out, hombres. And as always, enjoy x

 

 

 

Cheryl was being watched.

She could feel it.

A physical beauty. A child of the mob. An attention seeker. She _knew_ how it felt to have eyes on her.

Willing eyes.

But this was more than mere surveillance. More than looking.

This felt like _studying_.

**Learning _._**

**_Adoring._ **

She felt the burn of an intrigued gaze scouring over her skin as she lay on her side, hand pushed beneath the pillow, her eyes remaining closed despite her awakening from sleep more than a minute ago.

The covers brushed her shoulder as they lifted, the body next to her in the bed shifting gently and its warmth growing closer to her.

Toni, it seemed, was awake.

And _watching_ her.

The pillow dipped away from her face gently as the weight of an extra head depressed it and she felt soft, warm breaths puffing lightly against her mouth.

She fought to keep still, her heart hammering faster in her chest.

She longed to open her eyes, just one quick flick of the lids, and see gorgeous brown staring back at her. To lose herself in them. To take the time to search them. See the flecks of color and light. The personality and spirit that lay within them. To see how they were looking at _her_.

What emotions did they hold? Which truths did they reveal?

_Did she look at Cheryl the same way Cheryl looked at her?_

If only, Cheryl.

**If only.**

Her scalp tingled as she felt gentle fingers stroking at her hair, their touch inquisitive and tender, pushing back the red strands with a careful slowness, combing the tips through it lightly before returning to caress her hairline and begin the fond worship over again.

Cheryl’s heart beat faster against her compressed forearm.

Such an ordinary action. Not foreign to Cheryl by any means, to have a woman in her bed stroking at her hair.

Quite familiar indeed.

But this… the thought of Toni Topaz lying inches from her body, eyes gazing over her face and caressing her head as she ‘slept’ was intoxicating. Heady. Different.

Lovely.

Cheryl craved the serene normality of it.

This was something she could easily get used to. Awaking each morning to the sight of a pretty face and pink hair sharing the expanse of her goose-down pillow.

_Willingly_.

Her lips tipped upwards slightly at the thought.

The hand in her hair stopped suddenly.

Cheryl cursed her traitorous mouth and kept her breathing slow, waiting a beat to feel the soft pad of a curious finger touch gently at the corner of her lips that had relinquished her small smile.

_Studying._

**_Willingly._ **

She wondered if Toni was smiling too.

What a beautiful sight that would be.

If only.

The finger drifted inquisitively along her lower lip then, bending with the neat bow shape and Cheryl fought another smile, itching to give herself away by nipping playfully at the gentle, tanned skin with her teeth.

She felt a soft sigh tickle at her cheek before her lip was abandoned once more.

_Prepare yourself, Cheryl._

She opened her eyes.

_Dear God, you were **not** prepared._

But Lord, how **could** she be?

She squinted against the hazy morning light as it kissed across Toni’s face, watching as her features dropped in surprise.

So fucking soft.

Beautiful.

_You’re obsessed, Cheryl._

_And why wouldn’t you be?_

_She’s **angelic**_ … _look at her._

Toni’s throat bobbed in a swallow and she shifted the bed sheet higher over her shoulder.

They had once shared a blanket in very different circumstances, Cheryl pondered.

_When she was captured, Cheryl._

_But she’s not anymore, is she?_

**_You are._ **

“Shit.” There was a pause as pretty brown eyes flitted back and forth over Cheryl’s face. A startled little rabbit caught red handed in the proverbial headlights. “… Sorry… Didn’t mean to wake you.” Toni whispered it croakily, her eyes fighting to hold Cheryl’s before dropping quickly to her lips.

Cheryl smiled, shifting on her side.

“Not at all, TT.”

She flicked her eyes over smooth cheeks and felt the sudden longing to reach out and press her lips to them. To caress them. To trace endless lines between their freckles with her nose. Murmur against them. Nuzzle them with meaning and hope and intention. To breathe patient, satiated breaths against them as she rested their bodies together and take peaceful refuge upon their pillowed comfort. To feel them bend against her mouth in a smile and press back into her affections.

_Willingly._

If only.

She watched as Toni stared right back at her, their silent perusal of what appeared to be mutually appreciated beauty washing over them with the buoying of their gentle breaths.

“This is quite the sight to awaken to.” Cheryl whispered, surprising them both as her words fell from her lips sounding almost awestricken.

Toni refrained to answer, swallowing as she shifted backwards a little to rest upon her own pillow.

Cheryl mourned the lost proximity.

_I’d do anything for you._

She watched as Toni’s eyes fell once again to her mouth and she licked her lips self-consciously, reaching up a pale hand to flip her hair from her shoulder.

“Do I have something on my face, TT?”

Cheryl lagged a breathy chuckle behind her words.

Toni remained silent, eyes keen.

**Studying**.

She seemed to pause, squinting to the point of a frown and lifted her head from the pillow to tilt it.

She was surveying Cheryl’s face.

Surveying her face, she noted, in the same way Cheryl herself surveyed art.

Pensive. Absorbed. Intrigued.

Intelligent eyes taking in every detail and pondering their beauty.

She looked at Cheryl the way Cheryl looked at _her_.

A heart fluttered behind a pale bosom.

“I’ve only seen you without lipstick once.”

Cheryl raised an eyebrow at the softly murmured words, croaky and tired in their gentleness. Spoken as if only meant to be heard inside her own mind.

And a good morning to you too, Toni.

Toni appeared lost in thought.

She blinked.

“When you first brought me here. In the living room. On the couch. You were asking me if I was ok and I was kinda out of it but I remember…”

 She stopped to wet her own lips and Cheryl watched, captivated.

“…I remember,” Toni continued, resting her head on her arm, “You’d showered. And your red lipstick was gone. Your lips were clean and your face was fresh and you were looking at me with this look that was so… _sorry_ … And I thought…”

“What did you think?” Cheryl breathed, eyes searching Toni’s, entranced by the depth of her voice and the implications of her words and impatient to catch them before Toni’s defences closed up around her.

_She looks at you the way you look at **her** , Cheryl._

_Finally, someone reciprocates._

**_Willingly._ **

Toni peeled her lip past her teeth and frowned harder.

“I thought… you looked softer.”

Cheryl waited with bated breath, not daring to move an inch and tear through this moment of vulnerable clarity.

Toni swallowed.

“You looked softer, you know? Your lips looked softer, that’s what I noticed first, but also just… you looked different from before. New. Clean. I dunno your face and your whole… just you. I’d never seen you like that. Like you weren’t so… _Blossom_.”

The same small hand that had traced her lips in faux slumber slipped out from beneath the covers to find themselves upon Cheryl’s mouth once again, this time smoothing their tips along the bare skin in full view of Cheryl’s widened eyes.

“Like I wasn’t looking at Cheryl Blossom… I just saw _Cheryl_.” Toni led her index finger smoothly over Cheryl’s chin and dropped it to rest next to her cheek, pushing the pillow back to better see Cheryl’s face. “Just you.”

Cheryl fought the tears from forming with a strength she hadn’t known she’d possessed.

Toni had _seen_ her.

**_Her._ **

Devoid of her name. Her money. Her legacy and reputation. Removed of rumor and speculation and myth. Stripped of toxic connotations and _lies_.

She’d seen just her.

Just Cheryl.

No one had ever looked at her, _the way she looked at **them**_ , and just seen **her.**

“And I liked it, Cheryl.”

_Willingly._

Cheryl took a shuddering breath, itching to delve her hand into pink hair and tug.

“And what about now? What do you see now, TT?”

Toni’s eyes seemed to clear of their thoughtful mist, brightening as they caught her gaze.

Cheryl watched the corner of her lips lift into the threat of a smirk.

“I see you, Cheryl. No lipstick.”

_Oh she’s captured you good, Cheryl._

**_She’s captured you good._ **

Cheryl bit her lip, the calm restfulness of her muscles pushing deeply into the mattress contrasting beautifully with the solid, quickened thumping of her heart.

_And my God don’t you just **love it**_ **.**

She reached out, a smile attempting to strain its presence onto her bitten lip, and tucked a curl of pink tinged hair behind Toni’s ear. She took her time to release it, stroking her fingers over the bend of her jaw and dancing them lightly along Toni’s neck to rest between them on the bed, their arms touching as they lay crossed over one another.

They stared at each other for a moment, just breathing.

“Did you wake in the night, TT?” Cheryl whispered, inching her face closer on the pillow, “Were you disturbed by another nightmare?”

Toni shook her head.

“Nope. Nothing. I slept the whole night. I can’t remember the last time I had such a restful sleep.”

Cheryl smiled, a sigh leaving her nose.

“Wonderful, Toni. I wonder why that could be.”

Toni’s lips twitched.

“No idea.”

_If only_. 

 

 

 

Cheryl perched upon her stool, wriggling her wrist as she raised her arm and scooting the loose sleeves of her white oxford shirt, spattered with the multi-coloured blood of a thousand conquered works of art, down to her elbow.

She could still smell the scent of Toni’s hair on her pillow from earlier.

Divine and light.

Comforting.

_It’ll fade eventually, Cheryl._

_They always do._

She sighed, frowning as she hooked some loose hairs, which had spilled from her low ponytail, behind her ear with the pointed end of her paintbrush before dabbing it gently into a blob of crimson red on her palette.

_You heart hasn’t fluttered like this for a while now has it?_

_It’d burst right out of your chest were it not trapped safely beneath your slender ribs eh, Cheryl?_

_Trapped and **captured.**_

She dragged the brush to a spot of pink, gleaming softly in the sunlight that flooded in through the window of her studio room, and she mixed the two colours together, watching them combine to the perfect hue.

She smiled softly.

Laying there together in bed, sharing the first few precious minutes of peace before the day.

Sharing.

_You’ve not done much of that in your life have you, Cheryl?_

_She makes you want to though, doesn’t she?_

**_You’d do anything for her._ **

She pressed her lips together, squinting her eyes as she leaned in to her canvas and swept a masterful stroke of paint across its surface slowly.

She glanced over it, pulling her hand away and let out her held breath.

Perfect.

Red and pink.

And _perfect_.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding?”

Cheryl jumped, her paintbrush clattering to the tiles beneath her as the silky voice broke her from her thoughts, and she turned on her stool, careful not to scrape her knees against the canvas.

Toni was stood in the doorway, one forearm leaning against the frame and her other hand resting temptingly on the bend of her hip. She was regarding Cheryl with a tender smirk and beyond all faculties of her strict upbringing Cheryl forgot herself for a moment. Forgot their past and their circumstances. Forgot how sunlight looked as it kissed at anyone else’s cheek but Toni’s. Forgot how it felt to have enough space within one’s lungs to breathe as Toni’s dark eyes wrinkled at the sides of her smile. Forgot that time did not always remain suspended in slow-motion as thick lashes seemed to take an age to brush gently closed in a blink.

Cheryl stared.

How utterly perfect she was.

She watched as Toni stepped into the room, bending to retrieve her paintbrush from the floor and stood slowly, looking Cheryl up and down as she extended her hand to pass it back to her.

Cheryl took it gratefully, brushing her fingers gently to Toni’s palm.

If only.

Toni held her gaze, a smile still firmly placed to her lips, before breaking it to glance around the room.

“Have I discovered your art studio, Cheryl?”

Cheryl caught the light scent of Toni’s hair like a spritz of perfumed memory misting through the air and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Yes, Toni. You have.”

“Damn.”

She opened her eyes to see Toni stepping tentatively around the room, peering her gaze over the scattered works, finished and unfinished, stopping to drift her fingers over the open pages of a sketchbook.

“I suppose it’s a little more than a studio, though, TT. It’s a haven. An escape. It’s a hub of my innermost thoughts and passions and desires-”

“-that explains all the pictures of naked women.”

Cheryl rolled her eyes and turned back to her painting.

“Its function is an art studio, yes, Toni. But, essentially, this room is my _mind_.”

She dragged her brush delicately through the paint once more, hearing Toni shuffle herself into a pause behind her. She neglected to add that she’d never let anyone in here. Not even Jason. That this private, sacred inner sanctum was hers and hers alone, virgin to any footfalls other than hers before Toni’s delicate steps had made their way in so comfortably.

_You’ve **let her in** , Cheryl._

“It’s a mess, Cheryl…”

Cheryl snorted. Accurate.

“…But I like it.” Toni continued quietly, the padding of her socked feet growing closer.

Cheryl felt the warmth of her body at her side and swallowed, glancing at her from the corner of her eye. Toni was draping her squinted gaze over Cheryl’s canvas, one hand reaching up to push pink curls from her face and the other coming to rest on the nape of Cheryl’s neck, her fingers scratching idly at Cheryl’s hairline beneath her ponytail.

“So what’s this? You copying something?”

Cheryl’s skin prickled hotly down her back as she took a ragged breath.

She was touching her.

Toni was _touching_ her.

**Willingly.**

She cleared her throat.

“Yes, TT. This image here.” She motioned to a small print to the left of her easel and turned to drag her brush across her palette idly, “I won’t bore you with the details.”

She heard Toni scoff as the hand on her neck slid lower, slowly, pressing warmly into the middle of her back.

“Tell me. I wanna hear about it.”

Cheryl’s mouth twitched upwards lightly, glancing at the print.

“It’s entitled, ‘ _The Murder of Pelias_.’ A nineteenth century piece depicting the brutal death of a man at the hands of his daughters. I came across it when I was researching French Neoclassicism a few months ago and it just spoke to me. I don’t know why.”

Toni scoffed again, a chuckle trailing behind it.

“I do.” She laughed, slipping behind Cheryl to press against her as she took a closer look. “It’s probably the naked tits on show and the fact that it’s about young women _killing their father_ , but that’s just my opinion.”

Cheryl glanced behind her as Toni pulled away, a smirk fixed to her face.

“But it’s great, Cheryl. Identical. You’re fucking talented.”

Cheryl smiled, placing down her tools on a nearby table and turning to face the only _true_ work of art in the room as she watched Toni flip pink hair over her shoulder and step backward.

“Well thank you, TT. That means a lot coming from you.”

Toni shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So why aren’t you painting something original, you know? Like, your own work?”

Cheryl paused before she answered, smiling lightly at the ease of conversation that now seemed to flow between them and swallowed, clasping her hands over her clay-stained jeans.

“Well, TT. It’s… the artistic process is a difficult beast to control, I suppose. It’s not such an easy concept to explain to-”

“-You’re lacking inspiration?”

Cheryl stopped as Toni interrupted, noting the smug look on her tanned face.

“I. Well. Yes, in essence.”

Toni nodded, the fabric of her t-shirt lifting slightly to expose a sliver of the skin of a toned stomach as she shifted her shoulders.

Cheryl swallowed, squeezing her legs tighter together.

“Any idea why?”

Cheryl pushed some hair behind her ear and pressed her lips together.

“It’s complicated, TT.”

Toni watched her, her face turning serious and Cheryl’s back began to straighten instinctually as Toni took a step closer, her head tilting.

“What if I did something to help?... Maybe...I could pose for you, Cheryl… You want me to pose for you, Cheryl?” She whispered, the dropping of her smooth voice emitting to Cheryl’s ears almost like a pleasured moan, “Huh? Would that help you?...If I take off my clothes… lay back and let you… do _whatever_ … you want?”

**_If only._ **

Cheryl felt her breath dissipate, a white noise ringing in her ears as she fought to stop herself from launching across the small distance between them and ravaging Toni on the cold tiles beneath. She tried desperately not to imagine it. Soft skin and toned curves and pink hair fluttering over a slim back as she tossed her head back in pleasure.

_Steady, Cheryl…_

_… all you’ve wanted since  you first laid eyes on her._

She focused her obsessive mind, instead, on Toni’s lips, counting backward from 5 in her head as she gripped her already pale hands together to the point of white skin.

**_5…_ **

Those perfect, full lips that had caught her attention from the moment she had first seen her.

**_…4…_ **

Plump and soft beneath her fingers.

**_…3…_ **

Pillowed and bursting sumptuously beneath the scraping of white teeth.

**_…2…_ **

“…Wh…I…”

**_…1…_ **

The tinkling of bright laughter broke her from her lust and she watched as the lips that had commandeered her gaze stretched into a pretty grin.

“Cheryl,” Toni laughed, pushing her hair back from her face as the air in the room seemed to shift its haze, “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

A deep nausea plummeted to Cheryl’s gut as she twisted her own lips into a pained smile.

_Of course, Cheryl._

_She doesn’t want it._

_She **was using** you._

**_They all fade in the end._ **

“Of course.”

**_They all fade_.**

“But do you have any? Of your own work I mean, like sketches or something? Can I see it?”

Cheryl watched the excited intrigue flash in Toni’s eyes and felt a sense of acceptance wash over her that had never touched her before.

Someone was interested in her passion. Her work.

“You really want to?”

Toni nodded, squinting her eyes as they fell upon a sketchbook on the table next to Cheryl.

“Are there any in there?”

Cheryl followed her eyes, staring down at the embossed blue leather of its casing and shook her head, a flash of panic shooting through her chest.

_She can’t see what’s in there now can she, Cheryl?_

She grabbed the book in her hand, sliding it quickly into an open drawer and scraped it shut, smoothing a false smile onto her face with practiced ease.

“No. No, that’s more copies. Architectural details and landscapes and the like. Nothing interesting or of my own creation,” She lied, tucking a stray lock of red hair behind her ear, “That book, behind you on the shelf there, the red one. Look in there.”

She watched as Toni turned around, appreciating the smooth curve of her back as she stood on her tiptoes to retrieve the sketchbook and Cheryl closed her eyes for a moment, whether to calm herself from lust or sadness she was unsure.

“Holy fuck.”

She opened them again as the whispered awe of the curse word from Toni sounded out in the silence of the room and her eyes fell upon the purest, sweetest face she could ever remember seeing.

Toni’s eyes roamed the pages, wide and attentive, as she ran her fingers gently over the graphite drawings sketched neatly on the paper, tilting her head and craning her neck closer as each image brought a new sense of intrigue and perspective to her mind.

Cheryl sat, once again, staring.

Her world was filled with such evil; beauty and luxury tainted by the filth and foul stench of murderous illegality. She knew nothing of purity. Nothing of peace. Nothing of newness or wonder.

And she had thought that Toni’s experiences had been much the same. A life of tragedy and fear and chaos.

There was no room for harmony in their lives.

Yet, as she watched the emotions flit across a freckled face, a dog-eared sketchbook held carefully in scuffed, little hands, she realised she had been wrong.

_This_ was it.

Toni was it.

The little weed that grew in the embers of scorched earth.

The unworthy mortal who had dared to venture freely into the world of the Gods.

Toni was the pure beauty in each of their sullied lives that could bring Cheryl happiness.

The solution to their cognitive dissonance.

“Cheryl, Jesus Christ. These are beautiful.”

Cheryl smiled, pulling idly at a patch of dried paint on her knee.

“I like the way you say my name.”

Toni frowned, glancing up at her.

“Do I say it differently than other people?”

Cheryl shook her head, dropping her voice.

“Perhaps I just like when _you_ say it.”

Toni’s face appeared to relax, her knowing eyes watching Cheryl carefully.

A small smile tipped at her mouth.

Cheryl returned it.

**_I’d do anything for you._ **

Toni lowered the sketchbook in her hands, holding it gently to her chest.

_She knows, Cheryl._

_She knows._

She dropped her eyes all the way along Cheryl’s body and up again, resting them seemingly gratefully upon her face once more, a genuine softness in her eyes that Cheryl had only ever seen directed at her from others with fake intention and ulterior motive.

Cheryl looked away first, glancing down at Toni’s socked feet.

“So do you sell your work?”

Cheryl scoffed, turning to grab her paintbrush and rinse it in her jar of water, watching as the faint pink swirled freely around.

“I have more money than I’d ever be able to spend. I have several bank accounts baking a pretty fortune unbeknownst to Daddy. I always feared he’d cut me off. So even without the Blossom empire, I’m suitably comfortable. That money is _mine._ ” She dropped her voice to a murmur, dabbing the wet bristles dry on a dustsheet. “And it’s not dirty blood money either.”

She turned back to see Toni placing her sketchbook back on the shelf.

“Does your family like art? I can imagine your mansion is fucking _dripping_ with it.”

Cheryl nodded.

“My parents adore it. And my Nana did too.”

A bright smile took command of Toni’s face.

Cheryl decided she adored it.

“So they like your work?”

Cheryl’s face faltered for a moment and she pressed her lips together.

“They’ve never taken an interest in my artistic endeavors actually. Nor, to be truthful, in much of my life at all.”

Toni’s smile deflated, a sadness threatening at her brow as she appeared to internalize the information.

“I’m sorry, Che-”

“TT, stop.” Cheryl murmured quietly, “I told you that you need never apologize to me.”

There was silence for a moment, the air of agony around Cheryl clearly palpable to Toni.

_She deserves more than your sadness, Cheryl._

_Especially when she brings you everything **but** that._

“So for real,” Toni started again, turning once more to gaze around the room, her perfect little hand trailing its fingers lightly over the edge of a table, “You’re not painting anything original right now. You all locked up in your head?”

Cheryl watched as she collected some fine clay dust on her tanned fingers, brushing it away with her thumb.

“Locked up in my head?” She smiled fondly, “I like that, I could never simplify something so easily. But yes that’s entirely what I am, TT.” She glanced her eyes over Toni’s body, “Caught in my own head.”

_Captured._

Toni wiped her hand clean in the front of her t-shirt and looked to Cheryl.

“ _Why_ , Cheryl?”

They stared at each other for a moment, just watching.

Cheryl shifted on her stool.

_Tell her._

Toni smiled lightly, raising an eyebrow.

“I find it difficult,” Cheryl started, sitting up straight, “to create, rather than copy, to… draw or paint or sculpt things by my own hand from my own mind… without a muse.”

She pressed her full lips together, waiting for Toni’s reply.

Toni remained silent, cupping her forearm with her hand and resting her weight onto her hip, an encouraging smile tipping at the edges of her mouth.

“What I mean is…” Cheryl sighed, sitting up straighter on her stool, “… I need to be in love. Or at least be experiencing feelings. Deep feelings. Strong enough in their potency to evoke _art_. To be so beautiful and painful and encompassing to be art _themselves._ Something to focus my affection and obsession. Then it’s not just copying for the love of the skill. Then it’s original and personal and _real_.” She pulled her eyes back to Toni, “In order to create my own art, TT, I need to have art to create.”

Notably, Toni’s demeanour had changed.

Her soft, encouraging intrigue had turned to awe, her eyes focussing on Cheryl like a child enraptured in a bedtime story. She had taken to leaning back on a table, her hands gripping gently at the edge and her sweet, _sweet_ mouth laying parted slightly, watching.

Studying.

_Adoring._

Cheryl felt a prickle over her skin.

Her gaze, however, was unreadable. Intense, warm and yet filled with something powerful, something Cheryl was certain her own eyes were _convincing_ her was there.

If only.

“So all those women… in the sketches,” She motioned to the shelf behind her, “…they were…”

“Past loves.” Cheryl confirmed, nodding her head. “Some were more _lovers_ than loves. But I felt deeply for them all the same. I’ve had **many** a meaningless fuck, Toni, but if I truly feel something for a woman, she’ll end up on the pages of my sketchbook.”

Toni hummed, one side of her mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smile.

“You’ve had quite the love life for only being 25, huh?”

She chuckled melodically to herself.

Cheryl’s throat grew tight.

“Oh no, TT.” She smiled sadly, “none of them ever loved me back.”

Toni’s smile dropped once again.

“What do you me-”

“Aren’t we all just desperate to be loved, TT?” Cheryl interrupted, tears fighting at her eyes, “Perhaps at least once. When one _gives_ so much of it to people unrequited, only to discover that it was one’s money or body or social position that they truly wanted, it grows tiresome no?” She sucked in a breath, steeling her features into a tight smile, “Still, my goodness, let’s not be so melancholic, eh? I’m sure there’s a Shakespeare quote or something to perfectly articulate the sentiment but I confess, I never fucking liked his work enough to pay attention.”

She forced out a hollow chuckle, clearing her throat, the picture of upper-class veneer once more.

Toni watched her carefully for a moment.

_The way you look at **her**_ **.**

 Before she blinked, pushing herself from the table.

“You’re really passionate, Cheryl. It’s a really nice thing to see. I hope you find what you’re looking for soon.”

She pressed her lips together and had Cheryl not been so preoccupied with the smooth crackle of Toni’s voice she would’ve caught the genuine smile that had been skilfully supressed.

“I’ve taken up a bunch of your time already, Cheryl, so I’ll leave you to it.”

Toni shuffled slowly to the door, gifting her one last glance before closing the door behind her.

Cheryl let out a shaking breath, swallowing thickly as she pressed a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes.

_You told her everything, Cheryl._

_She caught you and made you tell her everything._

**_Wasn’t that what you originally intended for her?_ **

_Oh, how the tables have turned._

_She’s captured you **good**._

She sighed, turning slowly to the table next to her and opened the drawer, staring blankly at the blue sketchbook inside before lifting it carefully into her lap.

_‘Deep feelings…’_

Taking her lower lip between her teeth she pulled open the cover, sliding her fingers over the first blank page to reveal a sketch beneath it, drawn lovingly by her own hand.

_‘…to focus my affection…’_

Toni.

Toni Topaz, captured in time by a 4B pencil, sitting prettily at the breakfast table her first morning here. Bathed in sunlight. Beautiful and peaceful and pure.

Cheryl ran her eyes over it.

_‘…original and personal and **real**...’_

It was the most perfect piece of art she’d ever created.

Such a pity the softness of the graphite was already beginning to fade.

_Because they do eventually don’t they, Cheryl?_

_They all fade._

_And she’s no different, is she?_

_Why would she be?_

**_If only._ **

 

 

 


	15. Her Skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Told you i'd be back. There will FINALLY be smut in the NEXT chapter. So stay tuned. Hope you enjoy, feel free to comment. I keep meaning to reply to you all but then life steals all my time. I'll get there. Serious question though, I've got big plans for this fic, but, do y'all want the Scuff finale first or the next chapter of this? Let me know. Peace. Thanks for sticking with it.

 

 

 

A cold wind billowed itself gently against Toni’s face, whipping her ponytail over her shoulder. She shifted against its frigidity, the hard metal bars of Cheryl’s living room balcony pressing stiffly into her back as she sat against its concrete floor and sighed.

Life was complicated.

Placing her cigarette to her lips she held it loosely at the edge, tugging her thin sweatshirt sleeves further over her hands and drawing her knees to her chest as another breeze crept through to her bones.

She’d always known that. She’d lived the entirety of her years in ‘the gray area’ of society.

But truly, she had come to see, life was really _complicated._

She took a slow drag, turning her head to catch the smoke in the wind as she blew it away.

And she had very little clue as to how to _un-complicate_ it.

Gag someone with a rope? She could do that. Punch the spleen without bruising the skin? She could do that. Block out the cries of a tortured soul? She could do that too.

But remove the image of Cheryl Blossom’s heart breaking as she recounted the memories of never having known _love_?

She couldn’t do that. As hard as she tried.

Every time she closed her eyes. Every time she looked at Cheryl. Every time the smell of oil paint wafted through the apartment. She thought of Cheryl, a day ago, sat so small and so vulnerable, so _real_ on that stool, pouring out her heart.

And Dear God did it hurt her.

_Interesting…_

She cleared her throat, inhaling at her cigarette once more and turned to slip her hand between the railings, tapping the ash from the tip over the balcony’s edge.

God, Cheryl.

She’d never seen such _pain_ in someone’s eyes. And considering her past that was saying something.

_You want to take that pain way, Toni._

_And you **can**._

_Maybe she can take your pain away too?_

She swallowed, craning her neck and looking at the street.

She caught the glimpse of a black car on the road opposite, its tyres caught deep into blown piles of dead leaves and glanced over the tinted windows. Had she seen it before? Parked in various locations around the apartment building? She thought perhaps she had. It felt familiar.

Perhaps she’d stolen one back in the day.

Yup, that’d be it.

 _How classy of you, Toni_.

She frowned as she took another drag.

No doubt all of Cheryl’s neighbours had tinted windows on their chauffeur driven cars. They were all fucking millionaires with secrets.

She watched as its lights flickered on in the darkening, overcast afternoon grayness and its wheels crept slowly along the street until it rolled out of sight.

She shrugged, shivering.

“Whatever.”

The sound of the French doors opening behind her made her turn.

A navy blue high heel stepped elegantly onto the ground, followed by another.

The door slid shut behind them.

“TT, why are you out here?”

Cheryl.

Toni drifted her eyes up to her face, noting the concerned look that rested there to match the tone of her question.

No red lipstick, Toni noted.

Just red hair and pale skin and brown eyes.

Beautiful.

Just _Cheryl_.

“I’m just grabbing a cigarette and I don’t wanna make your home smell like smoke, ” She held it up in her little hand, the bruises around her wrist all but completely healed, and took a drag before holding it out to Cheryl, “You wanna share?”

A pretty smile slid across Cheryl’s face and red hair tumbled against slim shoulders as she nodded.

“I would love to, Toni. Thank you.”

Toni really did love that voice.

She shifted over a little to allow Cheryl space next to her.

“But aren’t you cold out here?”

Toni felt another chilling gust of wind up the back of her sweater and shrugged.

“It won’t take too long.”

She watched as Cheryl’s face softened, almost hurt to see Toni this way, and she supposed it reminded her of the first time she had seen her. Huddled and shivering on the floor.

_Forget about it now, Toni._

_She’s made you safe._

“I’d offer you my coat, TT. Versace is a little gauche for winter…”

Toni rolled her eyes.

“…but I think I may have something else you’d prefer.”

Toni tore her eyes from the slender bend of Cheryl’s high heels, distracted by the power they exuded, and looked up at Cheryl to see her placing a bag on the floor.

She frowned.

“Cheryl, you didn’t buy me so-”

She stopped, the words dropping limply from her lips like melted wax as she watched pale hands lifting from the bag, their long, neatly clipped fingers wrapped gently around black leather.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

Her cigarette hand fell loosely into her lap, eyes wide and threatening tears as the cold wind lay forgotten and a familiar, nostalgic warmth wrapped its arms around her back as a crudely stitched snake slithered into view.

The insignia sang out to her, battered and scuffed and stained.

‘SOUTHSIDE. SERPENTS.’

Her jacket.

No _way_.

_Her **jacket**_ **.**

“TT?” Cheryl whispered, barely audible over the rustle of the trees, now squatting in front of her. Her eyes were gentle and seemingly empathetic, searching Toni’s with an unobtrusive understanding as she reached up a hand to carefully curl a stray pink strand behind Toni’s ear. “shall I put it on you?”

_She’s brought it back to you, Toni._

Toni could do nothing but nod dumbly, passing her cigarette between her hands as she slipped her arms into the sleeves, settling back into her _skin_ once again.

Her skin.

Cheryl had brought it **back**.

She felt warm hands tug the lapels across her chest and watched with shaking lungs as Cheryl reached to cup the sides of her head, a soft, lingering kiss pressing tenderly to Toni’s forehead.

“There,” Cheryl breathed, moving slowly before Toni’s eyes to kiss her cheek this time, lips peeling unhurriedly, warmly, against the skin. She pulled back just barely to look down at Toni’s mouth, thumbs stroking her temples as their noses brushed together, “returned to its rightful owner at last.”

_You’re exactly where you need to be._

The hands dropped from her head to stroke along her arms, squeezing a reassuring grip to them.

Toni caught one in her own.

“Is that where you went today?” She whispered shakily, watching as they both glanced down at their skin pressed together. “To get this back for me?”

Cheryl turned to look up at her, eyes fixed to her lips, and nodded slowly.

“Amongst other things I was arranging, yes, Toni… I knew that my family keep the jackets of enemies slain as trophies. Objects of conquer. Identities reduced to mere _things.._.”

A smile flittered briefly at her bare lips.

“… And you are not a _thing_ , Toni Topaz…”

White teeth scraped against the skin where red lipstick used to stain and Toni felt her chest fill to tightness.

“…You are **_so much more_** than that.”

Toni swallowed, her ears ringing.

All she’d ever wanted to hear. To feel. To **be**.

More than.

Whole.

She shifted her shoulders beneath the familiar weight of her jacket and her skin prickled.

 _Complete_.

The normality she had always craved.

Safety without consequence.

Cheryl had given her that _._

She stroked her thumb slowly over Cheryl’s hand, feeling the muscles twitch beneath it.

“How did you know which one was mine?” She whispered, cocooning them in the seasonally low pressure haze of the weather-beaten balcony and darkening, opaque cloud.

She watched as Cheryl smiled. Genuine and coy and free and perfect, containing all the mirth and bashful joy that such a beautiful smile on such a beautiful woman her age should.

Toni immortalised it in a blink, snapping a Polaroid shot of Cheryl’s face and pinned it to the forefront of her mind.

_You’re exactly where you need to be, Toni._

“Easily, TT. It was the smallest one.”

Toni smirked, unconvinced.

“Is that the truth?”

Cheryl glanced at her mouth again, licking her lips, her voice all but a light wind of its own.

“… And… it smells like you.”

Toni paused, staring at the sheer beauty of Cheryl’s face.

The voice in her head, she decided, had been right.

She wanted to take away Cheryl’s pain. Cheryl deserved it.

And she would take it away.

**_Willingly_.**

“I know you don’t like me saying this, but I’m going to anyway.” Toni leaned closer, squeezing Cheryl’s hand gently in her own and placing a chaste, dry peck to a pale cheek.  She pulled back, searching Cheryl’s eyes, “ ** _Thank you_** , Cheryl.”

Toni dropped her gaze to Cheryl’s mouth and felt her own lips twitch.

_Do it._

_You **want** to._

Sucking in a breath through her nose she sat back, lifting her cigarette to her lips.

_Chicken shit._

Cheryl swallowed, Toni noticed, running a hand through her hair as she moved to take a seat next to her.

“I have something else for you inside.”

Toni rolled her eyes, her brow quirking into a frown as her full lips sucked in a drag and she shook her head, turning her face away from Cheryl to blow it out.

“Dammit, Cheryl. You’ve gotta stop-”

“-It’s a camera.”

The stick was plucked from her fingers daintily and she turned to look at Cheryl, her words lost to her yet again.

“A camera?” She repeated.

Cheryl nodded, the smoke undulating in waves from her mouth.

“You mentioned that taking photographs was your favourite thing to do, Toni. I hadn’t forgotten…”

A neatly trimmed red fingernail tapped ash to the floor.

“… I want you to spend your days doing nothing _but_ the things you enjoy. And I hope to facilitate that wherever I can.”

Toni surmised that very little else could be added to such a curtly articulate response and, sliding her legs out in front of her, decided to leave it sewn into the tapestry of their conversation unpicked.

_A camera, Toni._

_Yet another **passion** she’s renewed, eh?_

Toni sighed.

“Look, you can do whatever you want with your money, Cheryl. But I don’t want you risking your safety or chancing getting caught just because you want to get me stuff.”

Cheryl scoffed.

Toni turned to her.

“Seriously, Cheryl. What would your family have done if they’d seen you sneaking this out for me?” She motioned to her jacket, “Interrogate you? Have you followed?”

Cheryl locked their eyes.

“Oh no, TT.” She rebutted nonchalantly, a chilling certainty to her words, “They’d _kill_ me.”

She raised her arm, offering the cigarette.

Toni blinked.

“Jesus Christ, Cheryl.”

Cheryl remained still.

“They despise me, TT. My parents. And they’re pure evil. They’d be happy to relieve themselves of my burden.”

_Take her pain away…_

Silence fell respectfully upon them.

Toni sat back, stubbing the cigarette into the ground.

_… And she can take yours._

“I know that you rebuff any attempt to talk about it, Toni.” Cheryl announced softly into the quiet, “But I feel I must. And the gifts, they’re just an extension of it… of my regret… my disgust at myself and my family and my actions. Towards you. The things I put you through, what you had to endure because of me-”

Toni sat up, jolting her body straight and resting her head back against the railings, interrupting Cheryl’s passionate confessional with a groaning sigh.

She screwed her eyes shut.

“Cheryl, have you ever hurt anybody?” The words rushed quickly from her mouth, weighted. “I’m not talking bitchy words or intimidation or feelings or some fucking lesbian _dominatrix_ sex or sassy, snobby rich girl shit. I **know** you’ve done all that, but I mean really _hurt_ someone. Inflicted actual, real _pain_ to purposely _hurt_ someone. Fucked someone up in the head so bad they become a different person? Looked down at someone chained to a radiator and not even seen them as human?” She opened her eyes to look at Cheryl. “Huh? Have you? Cos you talk about torture and endurance and shit, Cheryl. But I’ve never seen you do it. You never did that to _me_. So have you hurt people?”

Cheryl seemed lost for words, her eyes glassy as her mouth opened fruitlessly.

“I,” She swallowed, shaking her head, “…no, TT.”

Toni clenched her jaw, pain tenting her brow.

“Well I have, Cheryl. I know what it looks like. I know what it _feels_ like.” Her nostrils flared as a thousand dark, gruesome, blood spattered images ran through her head, a sick chronology of her time with the Serpents that she had long since buried six feet under with all the bodies.

She took a steadying breath, rubbing at her eye.

“It _frustrates_ me, Cheryl. The shit you say to me. About hurting me. About ‘ _what you did.’_ I hate hearing you say it.” She looked up as the first of Cheryl’s silent tears dripped a blotted stain into the fabric of her designer dress.

Toni shook her head.

“Not because I’m traumatised. Not because I’m tryna…” She scrambled for the words, “…block it out. It’s because you don’t see the truth.” She reached over to wipe a tear from Cheryl’s chin as it threatened to drop, feeling the pale jaw trembling beneath her fingers to contain its sobs.

She caught her watery eyes, Toni’s own now filling.

“The truth is, Cheryl, I’ve had time to think about it all. And I’ve done worse. So much _fucking_ worse to people. You… you were caught up in something you never even knew about. Me? I always knew. I’ve been Otto, fuck, I’ve been _Jens_ or whatever that bastard’s name was. I’ve been on kidnap runs. I’ve been in interrogations. I’ve been serving at the bar in the Wyrm and told the band to play louder to block out the sounds of the Ghoulies wailing, chained up in the basement with their teeth knocked out and their legs broken and no water given to them in _days_.” She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’ve beaten people.” She nodded, “Not even for answers sometimes. Just because I was told to. Just gone to town on them ‘til they’re out cold on the floor. I’ve fought and I’ve stabbed and I’ve cut baby powder into jingle-jangle and sent it out _knowing_ it was gonna be sold to kids outside schools. Forced guns inside people’s mouths to scare them into co-operating. I’ve seen grown men piss their pants and beg for their mothers, beg for _death, Cheryl,_ because of what the Serpents have done- what _I’ve_ played a part in. What I’m saying… is that I understand that rush, you know? That power over someone. I know what it feels like and I understand how you felt, even if it was just at first.”

She sniffed, watching as Cheryl’s chest stuttered, those lovely full lips on the edge of blubbering.

Her eyes were sad, it seemed, but empathetic. There was no judgement, nor even pity, Toni noticed. Just sorrow and understanding. She could feel Toni’s pain.

_Take it all away._

Toni slid closer.

“What I didn’t do, Cheryl. Was untie those hostages’ hands to make them more comfortable. Or bring them candy bars and cigarettes and aspirin. Fucking tie back their hair and nurse their bruises and give them _human contact._ I didn’t give them blankets. I didn’t move them somewhere more comfortable with a clean bed and clean clothes and warmth and a shower and-”

“-That bed was abysmal and that room was still a cell and it was _inhuman_ of me to put you there.” Cheryl interrupted, whispering shakily through her wet lips.

Toni threw her head back, running her hands over her face and groaning, exasperated.

“Cheryl, just _stop_ a minute and listen to me!” She pleaded, “Where else could you take me, Cheryl? The fucking Ritz? Regardless of the fact that that _cell_ was warmer than any trailer I’ve ever called home, it’s not the room that matters. It’s the fact that you _wanted me to be **comfortable**._ You wanted me to be _safe_ , Cheryl. And happier. In the same situation, I never even saw them as people. And were the roles reversed, Cheryl, I wouldn’t have been so fucking merciful, _God-_ ”

She pressed her palms to her eyes, tears peeling past them as she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

A soft hand placed itself on her forearm gently, rubbing at the dark skin with its thumb as it pulled her hand away.

Toni sighed.

“I regret it. I _hate_ it, I fucking **_hate_** what I used to be, Cheryl. And I want out of that life. You know that.”

The hand on her arm squeezed.

“What I’m saying, Cheryl. Is that what you think you did. What you think was so awful and torturous. It _wasn’t_. And I would fucking know.”

She heard Cheryl take a deep breath.

“TT… I let you sit all alone for days. I kicked over your coffee. I threatened to leave you for _weeks_ -”

Toni rolled her eyes, a dull pain settling into the back of them.

“We both know you _wouldn’t_ have done that, Cheryl, and these things you think are so bad… are they any worse than something the cops around here would do for a confession? Really?”

“That doesn’t make it any better-”

“No, Cheryl, maybe not.” Toni sighed, blinking her eyes clear, “And I hated you. I hated you for it, I did. But not anymore. Not after all of this. Because what _does_ make it better is that you _protected_ me. You stopped me from becoming a _sex slave._ ” She watched pain and disgust cross Cheryl’s face as her hand trembled around Toni’s arm. “You _risked_ your future and, apparently, from what you’ve said today, your fucking **_life_** to help me escape. To give me shelter in your home. Give me a phone and a key and a _camera_ and went back to get **_my jacket_**. To give _me_ a future and a life. Freedom, Cheryl. And all of this after I threatened to **kill** you. After you were willing to _let me_ kill you.”

Cheryl’s free hand reached up slowly to tuck a strand of tear-drenched hair behind Toni’s ear.

“You’ve had the chance, Cheryl, to free your prisoner. To help them. To be the hero of it all and atone. I just wish I could go back and do the same.” Toni filled her lungs slowly, sniffing. “So, you may not think I deserved to be captured. But I don’t deserve the chance you’ve given me either.”

Cheryl sat up, her grip tightening.

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about yourself that way, Toni Topaz.” Her eyes were hard, angry; crying. “You are a wonder. You are truly a _wonder_. You have shown me courage and patience and intellect and empathy. You are strong and beautiful and magnificent and you have changed my life in its entirety, Toni. All those things you may have done in the past they are nothing. They are not you. The real you sits here with me, today… soft and regretful and passionate. An incredible woman who loves poetry and literature and taking photographs, who appreciates _art_.” She gripped Toni’s wrist with both hands now, staring hard. “You are a good person, Toni. A wonderful, _pure_ soul. So much so, that you have made me see my awful family for what they are and defy them. You showed me _trust_ , TT. No one has _ever_ done that.” She lowered her voice, “You… deserve the _world_. And I would give it to you in a heartbeat. I want to spend the rest of my lif-.” She stopped, swallowing, her lips twisted, “…the rest… of our time together doing that for you. I would do _anything_ for you.”

_She’d do anything for you._

Toni stared, lacking in both words and breath.

**_She saved your life._ **

_Tell her._

She took Cheryl’s hands in hers; flicking her eyes over pale, tear streaked cheeks.

“In a fucked-up, roundabout way… You saved my life. And I want you to know… that I _forgive_ you, Cheryl.”

A deep, elated sigh bellowed from Cheryl’s lungs, her eyes squeezing shut in the purest picture of relief Toni had ever seen. A hybrid cry of sheer release and ecstasy.

It was clearly all she had been wanting to hear since all of this began, no doubt.

Fresh tears spilled and Toni watched as they washed Cheryl’s porcelain skin slowly, her eyes blinking open to look at her.

Her soul looked lighter.

Clean.

 _New_.

_You’re taking away her pain._

**_Tell her again_ ** _._

Toni’s lips twitched into the seed of a grin.

“I forgive you…”

Cheryl gripped her hands desperately, a sobbed chuckle barking from her lips as they joined Toni in a smile.

“… And you know what? Fuck it, for the record… I think _you’re_ beautiful too.”

She sent Cheryl a soft wink, her puffy eyes tiring with the effort and glanced down at their joined hands, not for the first time admiring the natural pleasantness of it.

“Thank you, TT. You can’t begin to imagine how you’ve freed me.”

_Ditto eh, Toni?_

“I’m just repaying the favour, Cheryl. Life’s too short. And I think you’ve had a hard enough time already.”

She looked up to see Cheryl scoff, the pads of pale fingers dancing comfortingly across her cheek before meandering off to the side of her head, stroking her hair behind her ear.

Toni watched her eyes, dark and intelligent, taking in the microscopic detail of Toni’s skin with a charmed fascination.

Beautiful.

“I’ve had a very blessed life, Toni.” Cheryl murmured distractedly, a smile still ghosting at her lips.

Toni reached up to encase Cheryl’s hand in hers, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

“Cheryl… I can’t imagine what it’s like to not know if someone loves you for you or for something they can get from you. I mean it must-”

A slim white finger pressed softly to Toni’s lips to shush her.

“TT…” Cheryl whispered, an almost dreamy look of disregard upon her face, “… your mouth is too pretty to speak of such pain. And, I confess, the more time I spend in your presence… the less I tend to think of those people… of those memories. I feel less resentment and anger and envy. I can forget, and feel peace.”

Toni watched her, plumping her lips gently into the weight of Cheryl’s finger.

“It seems we both have things we’d rather forget, Toni. From the past.” Cheryl continued, running her fingertip along the bend of Toni’s cupid’s bow, “Perhaps we should both start afresh? A new beginning. What do you say?”

Toni’s lips curled upwards slowly.

She nodded.

_Clean._

 

 

 


End file.
